


Kinktober 2019: Starker Edition

by readysetstarker



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Aphrodisiacs, Attempted Blackmail, Bathing/Washing, Begging, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Body Swap, Cheating, Choking, Come Swallowing, Crossdressing, Crying, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Undertones, Dry Humping, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, Evolving Tags, Exhibitionism, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Filming, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inexperienced Peter Parker, Intercrural Sex, Jealous Tony Stark, Kink Negotiation, Knifeplay, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Mafia AU, Marking, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Peter is an adult unless stated otherwise!, Piercings, Power Play, Praise, Pseudo-Incest, Restraints, Riding, Rough Sex, Sadistic Peter, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Coercion, Shotgunning, Slight Possessiveness, Slight Quentin/Peter, Slight Spiderio, Slut Shaming, Smoking, Soft Dom Tony Stark, Sounding, Stalker Tony Stark, Stockings, Superior!Tony, Teasing, Tongue Piercings, Vaginal Fingering, Verbal Degradation, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism, Wax Play, Wet & Messy, Window Sex, clothed getting off, dark!Peter, guilty!Tony, no powers au, trans!peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-10-26 21:17:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 31
Words: 38,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20748914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readysetstarker/pseuds/readysetstarker
Summary: Ch. 14 Knife Play:The SHIELD agent needed to pay. A fan of the good Captain, he had made the mistake of trying to infiltrate Tony’s ranks and spy on him for their organization. Tony had wanted him dead the moment Pepper informed him of who he was; if there was one thing Tony couldn’t stomach in this world, it was a fucking rat.But no, his boy had intervened. “I’m bored, Daddy,” the sweet thing had said to him from where he had been perched on Tony’s lap, a queen on her throne. “Let me play with him, just a little bit. I promise not to let him touch me.”*updates daily*





	1. Wax Play

**Author's Note:**

> okay, i'm doing it. i've been writing kinktober prompts for the majority of september to be able to post this (had to close my inbox, sorry y'all). each chapter is going to be titled with the prompt it's based on. i'll be cross-posting these fics to my tumblr as well, so you're welcome to read them either here or on there.
> 
> the tags will be updated with each entry, and i'll make a note on each chapter which tags were added. so much love to quellthefire for her unending encouragement and enthusiasm, and for being a part of this with me!! i'm so excited to be posting alongside her. :DDD
> 
> you can find me on tumblr as readysetstarker
> 
> hate is gonna be deleted and ignored, might as well use that time to do something productive instead. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> **tags for this prompt are as follows:** daddy kink, dom/sub undertones, restraints, blindfold, wax play

Tony couldn’t have asked for a better boy. Peter was beautiful, obedient, affectionate, and so, _ so _ trusting. Even now, in the moment, Tony couldn’t believe the monumental amount of trust being placed on him, given to him willingly.

Peter’s lips were soft and pink and upturned into a sweet smile when Tony kissed him.

“Thank you, baby,” Tony whispered against his lips, leaning over his boy from where he sat on the side of the bed and tightened the vibranium cuffs holding the boy’s hands above his head. He knew better than anyone that self-control meant nothing in the face of unabashed pleasure. “You’re trusting me with so much.”

“Because I do trust you,” Peter replied, unable to hide his smile when Tony kissed him again. If it weren’t for the gold cloth around the boy’s eyes, he was sure they would be shining with love and adoration, the way they always did before play. 

Of course Peter trusted him. _ Of course _. 

Tony couldn’t help the slide of his hands down the toned and hard muscles of Peter’s chest and stomach; he could feel the jack-rabbit pulse of his heartbeat, and the muscles in his abdomen twitched under Tony’s fingertips. It was so smooth from the razor’s edge, sparse hairs having been shaved away and the skin soothed with lotion. 

Tony hummed appreciatively and moved his hand to pet Peter’s hair. “What’s your word, Pete? And your colors?”

Peter’s chest heaved with a breath. Tony could almost feel the anticipation radiating off the boy’s skin when he answered, “Infinity or red if I want to stop completely. Yellow to pause, green to keep going. If I can’t speak, then I go _ mm-mm _ twice. I know my words, Tony, _ please _.”

Tony shushed him with another kiss. “I know things get overwhelming with your senses the way they are. Don’t hesitate to stop me if you need to. Don’t force yourself to take too much for my sake.” 

He stroked Peter’s cheek and waited until the boy nodded before kissing him and settling himself between Peter’s bare thighs, hands reaching across to the other side of the bed to retrieve their toys for the night: a plain white candle, unscented, and a handheld lighter with the gaudiest design on it Tony had ever seen. A bright, sparkly purple peacock feather with an indigo circle pattern at the apex, surrounded by a neon pink background.

Tony had loved the look of embarrassment on Peter’s face when he tried to explain that it was May’s, used in the kitchen at her apartment. Not that he would have judged, but Tony had let Peter have his explanation.

If May knew how her lighter was being used tonight, she might not want it back.

The _ fwip _ of the flame sparking to life had Peter going tense, just for a moment, a split moment, before he relaxed into the bed. Tony watched his clenching and unclenching fists, his shallow breaths, his hips shifting and legs squirming along the mattress. He let the flame die, then let it spark back to life to burn the candle’s wick.

As he watched the flame dance in his breath, Tony ran his other hand up and down Peter's thigh in gentle movements, took the boy’s soft cock in his hands and ran the shaft through his fist from base to tip. His thumb traced the gentle arch along the underside. He repeated the motion a second and third time. Peter sank into mattress with a gentle moan. He brought his knees up and curled his toes.

“Daddy,” he said, breath clinging to the word. He shuddered when Tony let his thumb circle the slit at the tip. 

“Daddy has you, baby.” Tony wanted to kiss him, settling for pressing a wet, open-mouthed one on his thigh. “The candle needs time to melt. Daddy’s going to make you feel good until then.”

Peter nodded, hips moving languidly in Tony’s fist. He hardened just as quickly as Tony stroked him. Each trail up brought with it a quiet moan from the boy’s throat, a twist of his fist earning him a plea to go faster, to touch him harder, anything. Tony ignored each little demand and played with a sticky drop of precum that leaked onto his fingertip.

His baby fell apart slowly, until he was pulling against his restraints. His brow was pinched together, and for a moment, Tony thought he had forgotten about the candle. 

Until it was blown out. Until the smell of smoke and burnt cotton reached his nose. Tony saw the flare of his nostrils as he breathed in deep.

“Daddy has you, Petey.” Tony let Peter’s hardened cock lie flat against the planes of his stomach and dragged a hand along his hip. “You have your words. I want to hear them the second you get overwhelmed. Breathe, baby. Are you okay?”

Peter’s chest stuttered as he let out an unsteady breath. He swallowed and nodded, lips parted to let his tongue slide between them.

Tony lifted the jar up high and held it there, giving the wax a few seconds to cool in the lack of flame before he gently and slowly tipped it over. There was a second where the wax was suspended, and in slow motion, Tony watched it spill over the rim and onto Peter’s stomach. 

The first splash had the boy’s body going taut, head thrown back against the pillow beneath it, and his mouth dropped open in a choked-off moan, like it had been caught and pulled back into his throat. He whimpered, a weak little sound that prompted Tony to tilt the jar back up after the first few drops hit Peter’s skin. His next breath shook when it left his chest.

“Fuck,” he whispered. Tony went cold with the thought he had hurt Peter, hurt him in a way Peter would never have wanted him to, until his lips just barely quirked into a grin. His fists clenched. “Oh, my god.”

Tony grinned as well, and he set the candle to lean against Peter’s hip so he could drag his fingers through the cooling wax, to spread it thin against Peter’s skin, and he relished the hiss that escaped through his boy’s teeth.

A moment of silence. Tony caressed Peter’s thigh, thumb brushing the curve of his knee.

“Daddy,” Peter moaned, and he pinched his bottom lip between his teeth. “Please, I want more.”


	2. Soft Dom/Coaching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 2! i'm so excited to be posting these every day. day 2 is one i thought was cute: soft dom/coaching. 
> 
> **tags for this chapter:** Daddy kink, Dom/Sub undertones, Soft Dom!Tony, Inexperienced!Peter, deep throating, drooling

Peter’s inexperience embarrassed him. He hated it, walking into the bedroom and not knowing what to do beyond getting his clothes off. His first time had been so awkward and awful that he still couldn’t make eye contact with the boy he’d been with, and he had kept his hookups far and few between since. His lack of knowledge or skill made him a hesitant lover in the bedroom, not knowing what to do and not finding anyone willing to talk him through it.

Not until Tony, at least.

Not until Tony Stark took him under his wing, and into his bed, and found Peter’s hesitation and inexperience “endearing.” That first night when Peter had broken down in ashamed tears and explained everything, Tony had taken his wet and red face between his hands and kissed him, thanked him for his honesty, told him how good he was.

_ Good _. Like he had done something worthy of praise.

That night had started something new, something Peter didn’t realize he needed until Tony showed him. And, quite literally, showed him.

Tony took all control out of Peter’s hands, gave him instructions and orders to follow. Gave him a space where he could safely say _ I don’t know how _, and his confession would be met with praise and love rather than laughter. Tony always kissed him, always thanked him, always and always said, “Let me show you, baby.”

“I’ll guide you, baby.”

“I can teach it to you.”

“Only if you want to.”

The tenderness in his voice made Peter want to cry. Sometimes he did, with Tony’s thumbs brushing each tear away. Sometimes he couldn’t cry, only begging for Tony’s guidance when he needed it. And Tony gave selflessly.

He carded his fingers through Peter’s hair and moaned, praise spilling from his lips while Peter worked his mouth over Tony’s cock. He liked to think that his technique was getting better, that the pleasured moans from above him were genuine. Tony liked it when Peter pressed the flat of his tongue against his shaft and dragged it along the underside when he pulled off to breathe. The jerk of his hips made Peter’s lips stretch into a proud smile.

“I want to take you,” Peter said, his fingers wrapping around the spit-slick cock and dragging them up and down. Tony’s brow pinched together. His mouth was still open as he panted. “I want to take you down all the way, want you in my throat, Daddy.”

Tony’s jaw went tight, and Peter would have worried about overstepping some sort of boundary if it wasn’t for the aroused throb he felt between his fingers. 

“You want that, baby boy?” Tony asked, and his fingers moved from Peter’s hair to gently stroke the angle of his jaw and down to close his fingers around his throat. There was a gentle pressure, but it wasn’t to constrict. Tony just wanted to feel him, caressing the column of his throat with his thumb. “You want Daddy to fuck your throat? Want me to bury my cock in your mouth?”

Peter whined and nodded. His fingers just barely squeezed the dick in his grasp.

“Yes, please.” Peter turned to nuzzle the shaft. He left wet little kisses up and down the side of it. “You need to teach me, I don’t know how.”

Tony’s eyes lit up when he leaned down to kiss Peter’s hair and he groaned into the nest of brown curls. “Such a good boy, asking for my help. Yes, Daddy’ll show you. Daddy can teach you how to take his cock.”

Peter murmured a litany of praise into Tony’s mouth, raising up on his knees to kiss his Daddy and stroke his cock. Tony growled and cupped the back of Peter’s head, fingers scratching along the curve of scalp. It sent pleasant tingles down Peter’s spine, making him shiver.

Tony eased his cock back into Peter’s mouth. He took the head between his lips and teased the slit with his tongue, earning a pleased noise from above him. Tony’s hand on the back of Peter’s head became more forceful, pushing his head further down Tony’s cock. Peter let him. He trusted Tony.

He breathed through his nose at Tony’s command, slow and deep as he inched down, and the head of Tony’s cock hitting the back of his throat made him gag. It was undignified, spit oozing out of the corners of his mouth, but Tony pet his hair and whispered encouragements. “You’re doing so good, baby. You’re perfect. That’s okay, that’s normal. You can fight against it, if you want to do this. Try again.”

Peter felt the shame melting away from him, using the spit from his mouth to make stroking the rest of his cock easier. He moaned around Tony’s length, raising off just enough to catch his breath before trying again. Tony praised him for it, telling him how to fight against his reflex. 

Another try, but this time he was anticipating it. Peter knew when the urge to gag was about to hit him. He did his best to ignore it, fight against his body’s desire to reject the dick slipping further back into his mouth. He managed to suppress it the second time, and then Tony’s cock was nudging the back of his throat. 

Above him, Tony moaned. “Good job, Peter. God, so good for me. Deep breath, baby, and hold it. You won’t be able to breathe, but I’ve got you. You can take it.”

_ I can take it _.

Peter followed his directions, taking a deep breath and still resisting his urge to gag as Tony curled his fingers into Peter’s hair and breached his throat. The bliss of having his Daddy’s cock all the way in his throat lasted only moment before Peter gagged once, then twice. He coughed and sputtered around Tony before pulling off with a heavy breath. More spit poured down his chin, wetting his neck.

He swallowed and tears burned in the corners of his eyes. He hadn’t been able to do it, taking only the head before spitting everywhere. His face was drenched in his own drool and red with blush.

The expectation was Tony laughing at him, or being disgusted by him and the fact that he could have just thrown up from his cock.

The reality was Tony kissing his forehead, carding fingers through Peter’s hair and wiping a thick, frothy line of drool from his lips. “You’re doing so good for your first time, my sweet boy. Trying so hard, just to make Daddy happy. You can stop if you want, you don’t have to force yourself.”

Peter swallowed down a thankful sob, although the tears slipped through when he blinked. Tony kissed them away, praise littering Peter’s cheeks. His mouth was still wet when Tony kissed him and slipped his tongue between Peter’s lips.


	3. Shower/Bath/Underwater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day three! the urge to post everything all at once is ridiculous, y'all would not believe. it's a fluffy one, today. thank you for the comments and kudos i've received so far!! y'all are amazing. 
> 
> **tags for this chapter:** fluff, bathing, hand jobs

If there was one thing that Tony could change about being a superhero and saving the world (beyond, you know, keeping the world off every villain’s shit list for about ten minutes) was how it left his body feeling like he had been chewed up and spat out by some radioactive, alien dog. 

Everything ached down to his fingernails. His _ fingernails _. He didn’t think it was possible for a nail to hurt, but judging by the purple mass growing under his thumbnail, he realized that maybe there were a few things in this world that Tony Stark didn’t know.

His lip was split, bruises littering his arms and legs when the nanites disappeared into their glowing home at Tony’s chest. The next wannabe-Thanos would show up before they so much as turned yellow under his skin, and he’d be dragged from his tower in another set of armor to get even more bruises, maybe lose a little blood and sanity while he was at it.

A hiss brought his focus off his own injuries and onto the young vigilante behind him. The left side of Peter’s mask, as well as the lens, had been completely shattered and torn by their small-time bank robber. Peter’s face was littered with scratches on his exposed skin, blood smeared across his face, and there were more bruises on his forehead and cheek when he pulled the mask off and tossed it to the side.

Their eyes met, silence for a moment, before Peter sidled up against him and wrapped his arms around Tony. Tony pulled him in, kissing his head, letting the young boy melt against him.

“You look like shit,” Tony mumbled into his hair. Peter scoffed.

“You still look handsome as ever,” Peter said, and Tony couldn’t help but smile at his boy’s inability to insult him after he had taken a beating. Nothing brought the boy’s honesty out the way a rough fight did; there was something about watching Tony get slapped around that made him want to reaffirm just how much he loved the older man. 

It made Tony’s chest tighten in a way he would never get used to.

“Come on, let’s get ready for bed.” Tony accepted Peter’s kiss when he pulled away, lips still gently brushing when they pulled away. “I’m shutting all my alarms off and sleeping late, and you’re not leaving the bed without me.”

Peter hummed, pleased at the idea, and pulled Tony in for another kiss before saying, “Friday, can you run a bath for us? Hot water, maybe some epsom salt, too.”

“Watch the temperature, Fri. Don’t wanna boil alive.”

“Boil you alive, make you salty. Got it, boss.”

His boy chuckled at the frown he gave the general area of his penthouse’s ceiling, but Tony allowed himself to be led to the bathroom and away from the windows, whose blinds were now turning to darken the room against the city’s bright lights. Tony squeezed the boy’s fingers in his, letting the strong hand ground him as he fell from his adrenaline high. He was already starting to feel the effects, such as a headache and his eyes growing sore.

The water in the tub ran hot, steaming up the mirrors when they stepped inside. The smell of spearmint wrapped around them as Peter turned Tony around and got to work helping him out of his clothes. The reactor came first, detaching with a hiss from Tony’s bodysuit, and it was set with care onto the pristine white bathroom counter behind him. 

Next came the tight shirt fit across his chest, and Tony hissed when he raised his arms and Peter’s knuckles aggravated a dark bruise along his ribs. He was twelve percent sure one of them wasn’t broken. Maybe. He’d have FRIDAY do bodily scans on him when he got out of the tub.

Peter’s fingers were gentle on the bruise once the shirt was on the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you’re hurt too.” Tony’s fingers tilted Peter’s chin to look up at him. 

“Yeah, but my body is gonna heal in a few hours. Yours won’t.”

The sad look on Peter’s face melted Tony’s heart, and he brushed the boy’s sweat-damp hair out of his face to kiss his forehead. “Let’s get in the tub and get clean, okay? If we take too long, I might fall asleep in here.”

Peter pinched his lip between his teeth to smother a laugh and worked on Tony’s pants next. As much as Tony wanted to make the moment sexual, wanted Peter on his knees a little longer while Friday finished pouring their bath, Peter was back on his feet in an instant. He smiled and wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist. It took him standing up on the tips of his toes to be able to kiss Tony again.

Peter was out of his spider suit in half the time, pushing Tony towards the steaming pool of water and urging him to take a dip before Peter got in. He did as his boy instructed, wincing against sore muscles and aching joints. Hero-ing every other day was beginning to take its toll. 

Maybe he’d go on vacation, for real this time. He still had a free room offer in Busan he hadn’t used.

The hot water was so soothing when Tony dunked in and enveloped himself in it. God, it felt _ amazing _. The water soothed his aches, eased the tension from his muscles as he sunk lower and lower against the back of the tub. He could hear Peter’s bare feet padding across the tile when he closed his eyes, didn’t bother opening them when the water sloshed around, and there was a lithe and cold body pressing against him.

Tony wrapped his arms around broad shoulders and nuzzled into Peter’s neck when he finally found a comfortable position, but only after he had wiggled around and situated himself first.

All the squirming hadn’t helped. Tony couldn’t be blamed for the way his cock stirred between his and Peter’s bodies, already at half-mast and poking Peter in the back. The exhaustion was steeped all the way down to his bones, and sex was the absolute last thing on his mind. If Peter had chosen to ignore it, he wouldn’t have been offended.

But of course his baby boy couldn’t ignore it. He squirmed a little, enough to drag a hiss from Tony’s lips, and turned partially in the bath. Tony tightened his arms around Peter.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said, hoping he answered the unspoken question in Peter’s eyes.

Peter’s eyes searched his face. His lips parted for a moment, like he might say something in response. He wiggled out of Tony’s grip, and Tony loosened his arms to let him. He was about to question whether or not he had made Peter uncomfortable before the boy’s wet lips were pressed against his, and thin fingers wrapped around his shaft.

Whatever argument he had died when Peter pulled back and gave him a heated stare, pupils blown. Tony was sure he had come down from his adrenaline high earlier. Maybe, with his senses dialed up, calming down was harder for Peter.

A pink tongue whipped out to lap at Tony’s bottom lip. “Let me take care of you,” he pleaded, and the slow, gentle upstroke of his fingers around Tony’s cock made his arguments against Peter’s request crumble.

So Tony let him, head falling back against the rim of the tub as Peter leaned forward and began to leave kisses across his bruised skin. Cuts stung under the water dripping from Peter’s lips, a pleasant pain compared to the heat spreading throughout his body from Peter’s fingers on him. He couldn’t help but groan when Peter twisted his wrist at the head and circled the slit with the pad of his thumb. Peter kissed him then, tongue slipping between his lips.

He could get used to this, he thought. Maybe coming home battered and bruised wasn’t so bad, if he had Peter here to take care of him.


	4. Orgasm Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day four, feat. orgasm denial and a vibrating crotch plate in peter's suit!
> 
> **tags for this chapter:** dubious consent, orgasm denial, edging, dom/sub relationship

Peter knew he was in deep shit the moment he arrived at the Avengers Tower and found Tony Stark waiting for him at the end of one of his launch pads, arms crossed over his chest and hip cocked. He ducked his head, hoping that maybe his mentor wouldn’t notice him awkwardly walking down the runway towards him. But, of course, no such luck.

“Boss, Peter Parker just landed,” Friday’s cheery voice provided as Peter stepped up to him.

Tony’s eyes narrowed and he said, “Yeah, I can see that. Hi, _Peter_.”

From behind the glowing lenses of his Iron Spider suit, Peter sheepishly grinned and could hear them clicking, changing their shape with his facial movements. “Hi, Mr. Stark. It’s late, what are you still doing up?”

“I think I could ask you the same question.” Tony put an arm around him and all but hauled him inside. Peter could break his grip on him easily, but the way Tony held his shoulder possessively made him decide against it. He was already in trouble for disobeying orders, so he might as well do his best to alleviate some of Tony’s anger.

Peter allowed himself to be led inside, Friday taking it upon herself to close the sliding floor-to-ceiling glass doors behind them, and Tony released him to go pour a drink. As the amber liquid spilled over into a glass tumbler, Tony spoke. His voice was even but there was something lying underneath his tone that suggested that he was fuming.

“Tell me something, Peter,” he started, eyes never leaving the splash of bourbon in his glass, “did I or did I not tell you not to follow up on the firearms deal by the docks?”

“But, Mr. Stark, I had to!” Peter said. “People would have died if I just sat back and did nothing! Those weapons weren’t a joke.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Tony set the bottle down and twisted the cap back on. He swirled the drink around in his glass and took a deep smell of it. With a hum, he began rounding the bar counter. “I had tipped off the police and they were going to make a raid on the leader’s business front for the weapons, find them legally, process some arms possession charges.”

He grabbed Peter by his arm and pulled him towards the living room. Peter could feel the man’s hold through the thin layer of nanotech armor.

“Now, instead of getting to sleep in or relax tomorrow morning, I have to call the police department and tell them to call off the raid.” Tony sighed and eased himself back onto his couch. “Count the whole thing as a loss.”

“It’s not a loss! I webbed up a handful of goons. Someone’s bound to talk.”

“I doubt it.” Tony took a sip of his bourbon. “Marcolo’s men are more afraid of him than they are of me or the police. They’ll keep their mouths shut or make something up to keep their boss from getting caught. Someone will take the fall, but it won’t be Marcolo.”

Tony’s tongue slipped between his lips to catch a lingering drop of booze. “But that begs the question: What, oh what, am I going to do with you, Peter Parker?”

Peter shuffled where he stood. “I still think what I did was right. They would have been tipped off about the cops coming.”

He stood his ground, arms crossing over his own chest in defiance. Tony quirked an eyebrow up, eyes scanning the aggressive stance. Peter didn’t back down, even let the mask fall away so Tony could see his eyes. Peter hoped he looked as convicted as he felt.

After what felt like hours in their silent standoff, Tony conceded. He made a face into his bourbon as he drank it, and Peter relaxed.

“Karen, override Peter’s command privileges. I want the Punishment Protocol turned on as well.”

“The what?”

Peter’s question went unanswered. The suit went almost stiff around him, like it was just a size too small. He tried to will the mask back on but found the suit was unresponsive to his commands. His confusion was plain on his face by the way Tony looked up at him and grinned from behind the rim of his glass.

“Didn’t know about that little addition, did you?” Tony asked. “Of course I have override commands on my own tech. Did you think I wouldn’t give myself priority access?”

Tony leaned forward with his fingers gently gripping the rim of his glass. “Karen, get him on his knees. Second speed, preferably.”

Peter didn’t get a chance to ask what he meant. In an instant, there was a vibration against his chest and cock, intense enough to draw a startled noise from him. His knees hit the floor hard, and he curled in on himself as the heat from the vibrations coursed all the way through his veins. He couldn’t help the moan that replaced his words when he tried to speak.

Above him, Tony chuckled and took a slow sip of his drink.

“Wha—oh, _ fuck _—what is this?” Peter asked, just barely able to get himself into a kneeling position.

“A new protocol I installed into your suit after our ‘arrangement’ had been made,” Tony explained. He smirked down at Peter, seemingly proud of himself. “I figured, if I’m going to be your mentor as well as your dominant, I should have some form of punishment installed for when you go and do stupid shit like you did tonight.”

Peter whined. Tony kicked up the vibrations, causing Peter to bend in half. He pressed his forehead against the carpet, fingers desperately grabbing at the plating over his crotch. It buzzed beneath his fingers but didn’t budge.

The muscles in his stomach and thighs tightened. He felt hot, sweat beading along his hairline, and he scrabbled desperately for his suit, to pull it off of his cock where it was pressed right against the sensitive head. He keened and looked up at Tony through eyes filled with embarrassed tears. Tony had busied himself with something on a StarkPad.

“P-Please,” he begged, trying to fight the way his hips wanted to thrust and roll against his plating. His toes curled against the fibers and his thighs twitched.

Tony smirked but kept his eyes fixed on the pad in his hand. “You want to come, baby?” he asked. “Is that it?”

Too drunk on the burning pleasure taking over him, Peter couldn’t do anything but nod. Just hearing one of the dozens of nicknames Tony had for him helped ground him, although his hips continued to make their aborted little movements to get friction. He whimpered when Tony put the pad down.

He leaned over Peter’s hunched form and said, “I want an apology for tonight, Petey. Admit you were wrong, and I’ll let you come.”

“I,” Peter started, choking, “I’m sorry.”

“Good boy.” Tony smiled at him.

Peter scoffed. “I’m sorry for doing the right thing and intervening in that arms deal. I’m sorry you have to call the cops and stop them from wasting their time!”

Tony’s smile slid off his face, replaced with a small, tight-lipped frown. He shook his head. “Oh, Peter, I’m so disappointed. Karen, put it on hold. All the way back down to zero.”

All at once, the buzzing stopped. Peter gasped and coughed, the shock rocking him. He managed to push himself back up on shaky arms. Tony leaned back against the backrest of his couch and downed the rest of his drink, fixing Peter with a heated stare.

“I want an apology, Pete. Give me that, and I’ll consider letting you come.”

Peter moaned as a vague motion from Tony’s hand started the vibrations up again, and he writhed on the floor. He choked as Tony crossed his legs and watched him coolly.

“Y-You’re in for a, shit, for a long night, old man.”

Tony chuckled, lips cracking into a grin. “I was betting on that.”


	5. Breath Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a shorty but a goody. i loved writing this one. there's not enough dark!peter in this fandom for me to consume *A*
> 
> **tags for this chapter:** SIM!Tony, Dark!Peter, riding, daddy kink, choking

Tony loved pretty things. Shiny baubles, twinkling trinkets, pretty little things that could shatter under his iron grip if he wished it. Pretty, valuable, and delicate; he would have nothing less than the most beautiful artistry in his collection.

It was why he had held onto Peter Parker as long as he had, those almond-colored eyes and cherry-pink lips pulling him in the first time he had unmasked the boy. Those eyes had been so full of hatred at their first meeting, lips pulled into a disgusted sneer when Tony had reached out to stroke his cheek, call him beautiful, _lay his_ _claim_.

But like all things, it had only been a matter of time before Peter had been his.

The brown of his eyes had long been swallowed by a fiery crimson, flaring from underneath his lashes as Peter sank down on his cock. His lips were wet and kiss-swollen, his long and lean thighs spread across Tony’s lap to straddle him where he sat on the white leather couch, and his hair a delicious mess of chestnut curls that were mussed and tangled from the rounds Tony’s fingers had made through them.

He was gorgeous, a true work of art. Tony wondered what Peter would think of an audience watching him ride Tony to completion.

Peter’s hands stroked over his chest and shoulders, digging into the curve where his neck met his shoulders, and then up. Tony leaned forward with a smirk; Peter was so sentimental sometimes, his old self peeking through his regular doses of Extremis. 

What Tony had expected to be a gentle framing of his face turned to Peter’s fingers wrapping around his throat and _ squeezing _. Tony’s breath hitched, caught between the cradle of Peter’s hands, and his boy leaned in close to press a wet kiss to his bottom lip. Tony’s nails bit into Peter’s hips, which were still moving at a steady pace.

“Daddy,” Peter moaned into his mouth. Scarlet eyes flashed when he caught Tony’s lip between his teeth. “You’re not paying attention to me.”

Tony managed a weak chuckle and wrapped his own fingers around Peter’s right wrist. There was a moment of hesitation. Tony could see it in his eyes, his baby wondering if he had crossed some unspoken line and was about to pay the price for it.

Instead, Tony pushed his boy’s palm harder against his neck. His head turned fuzzy.

“Of course I am,” he said. Even with the effort he put into keeping his voice even, it came out with a gravelly rasp. “I can’t think of anything but you, baby boy.”

Peter growled and pressed their foreheads together. His hips never stopped.

“_Liar_. I can see your mind wandering.”

Tony chuckled as Peter kissed him again, teeth digging into Tony’s lip. “You’re not allowed to think about anything else but me right now, Daddy.”

Peter’s fingers loosened, and Tony took a deep, even breath. He brought his boy’s long fingers to his lips, planting fluttering kisses across bruised and scarred knuckles while his other hand squeezed the boy’s strong thigh so hard he knew he’d leave bruises.

“Whatever you say, baby,” Tony promised, and his grip on Peter’s thigh urged him into quickening his pace, dropping himself harder onto Tony’s cock. He put Peter’s fingers around his throat again, and was pleased to feel Peter’s thumb digging into his windpipe.

Tony loved pretty things. Shiny baubles, twinkling trinkets, pretty little things that could shatter under his iron grip if he wished it. Pretty, valuable, but Peter was not delicate. No, Tony preferred him strong and durable. He would have him no other way.


	6. Upskirt/Semi-Public Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooh, this one was _fun_. y'all are gonna be able to tell that i enjoyed writing this, lmao. 
> 
> also!!! it's starkerchemistry's bday!!! y'all should hop on over to her blog and wish her a happy bday while there's still time! i promised her a dedication for this chapter since it's her day of birth, so chems, this one is for you! forgive any errors in this chapter, i just got off a 12-hr shift and i'm exhausted. i'll do a proper read-through tomorrow, y'all enjoy for now. <3
> 
> **tags for this chapter:** crossdressing, cheating, dubious consent turned consensual, anal plugs, anal fingering, semi-public sex

Peter was grateful for how easily the Avengers had taken to him wearing more feminine clothing around the Tower. There had been a few questions here and there about his gender, his presentation, all of it respectful and toeing a line Peter never drew himself. Interactions differed between each Avenger, but Thor had asked him nothing. His mentions of Peter’s clothing were mostly compliments, commending him for how well-dressed he was when he wore a bright red chiffon skirt and baggy blue tee to dinner one night.

His main concern had been when he caught Tony staring at him in the lab once, looking equal parts shocked and… something else. Something Peter had seen on his boyfriend’s face a long time ago when he wore a black lace number in bed when they first started dating. But it was quickly replaced with a smirk and a nonchalant shrug.

“Wear whatever the fuck you want, kid,” Tony had told him when Peter asked if his clothing bothered him. “As long as you wear your suit in the field and do what’s asked of you, what you wear in your downtime is your business, and no one else's.”

And nothing more had been said, beyond Wanda offering him some of her own clothes when she went through her closet. He really liked the dresses and coats she gave him, although they had needed some tailoring to fit properly. The first time he had worn one of her scarlet skirts, he couldn’t help twirling around in it.

He even sent a picture of himself in it to his boyfriend, but the response was lukewarm: a simple message of “cute”, encapsulated in a bubble of green. Peter tried not to let it bother him when he saw it, curled up in a pink plaid skirt and his old Midtown High sweatshirt. He had a black fleece blanket thrown across his legs because of the short hem, and he didn’t want to flash anyone during their movie.

(That, and he didn’t want anyone seeing the half-mast erection pushing the fabric of his skirt up. The black plug he had pushed into himself was pressing against that sweet spot inside of him every time he so much as breathed, and he was trying his best to will the ache away while hiding it from view. He had plans to swing by his boyfriend’s place after this and didn’t want them to waste any time with prepping.)

Sam had chosen the movie tonight, an old action flick that Tony swore up and down was _ not a Christmas film, just because it takes place on December 25 _. Peter laughed and licked butter and cheddar popcorn flavoring from his fingertips while the two bickered until Natasha shushed them, and Peter silently checked his phone for another response from his boyfriend.

** _<<It’s pretty, right? I can just imagine you fucking me in it, hiked all the way up to my hips while I’m bent over the kitchen counter._ **

Peter chewed on his lip and checked the room around him. Everyone was too preoccupied with the movie to notice him texting. He waited (im)patiently for a response, excited to see what his boyfriend would say to that. The excitement died when his phone buzzed, and he opened up their text conversation.

** _>>That’s a lot of fabric in that skirt, though. And having sex in the kitchen isn’t exactly sanitary. Besides, my mom’s over for the weekend, so maybe we could try meeting up next week._ **

That made Peter’s chest tighten.

** _<<For the ENTIRE weekend? It’s our two-year anniversary tomorrow! We have dinner reservations at that new bistro and a hotel room off the coast. Remember?_ **

** _>>Oh, is that this weekend? I must have forgotten._ **

Peter breathed out heavy and long, eyes aching from the need to cry. He grit his teeth and punched in a heated response that he knew he’d regret in the morning.

No one said anything when he pushed the blanket off of himself and retreated to the kitchen. He decided to make his own bowl of popcorn, something to help drown the anger filling his chest. His phone buzzed again from the couch, but he ignored it in favor of perusing the cabinets for popcorn bags. If Thor used them all up _ again _…

“Hey, kid,” a voice started. Peter turned away from the pantry as Tony was shushed by three people from the living room, and he put a hand up in apology before moving to stand in front of the counter and lean back on it. “You, uh, you okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine,” Peter lied. “Why do you ask?”

“Accidentally read your boyfriend’s text when your phone went off. Didn’t meant to snoop, sorry.” Tony held the mentioned device out to him, but Peter just shook his head, and it ended up on the counter. “You want to talk about it?”

“No, I’m fine.” Peter moved to the counter and checked the text Tony had seen. A half-hearted apology followed by an accusation that Peter was just looking for a fight. Peter swiped it away with his finger. “We’re probably going to break up, anyways. Been a long time coming.”

He didn’t see Tony wince but the sympathetic hiss from between the man’s teeth was heard.

Tony’s hand was warm on his back where it laid between his shoulder blades, slipping down just an inch. He pushed off the counter and moved to Peter’s side. His touch was comforting, and Peter could feel the tension melting from his shoulders at his mentor’s touch.

“Well, I’m sorry either way. Break ups always suck.”

Tony’s hand rubbed slow circles into his back. Peter relaxed more into it. From where he was standing, he could still see the movie blaring on Tony’s large flat screen, and the others were too entranced by it to even notice they were gone. He was also pretty sure Bruce had stolen his blanket at some point.

“He won’t know what he’s missing once you’re gone,” Tony said, voice pitched low as his hand began slipping down.

Peter didn’t really register what his words meant until he could feel the gentle brushing of Tony’s hands on the swell of his ass. His breath hitched.

Was Tony really doing what he thought he was doing?

No, Peter thought, Tony’s hand just accidentally touched him when he pulled away. He had definitely pulled his hand away and just happened to bump into Peter. That’s what happened, right?

Wrong, apparently.

Peter had to bite back a yelp when he felt Tony’s hand brushing up beneath the hem of his skirt. His fingertips traced just under the swell of his ass. Peter’s teeth nearly drew blood at the realization that Tony—his _ mentor _—was feeling him up from beneath his skirt. It sent a thrilling shock down his spine. He whimpered and quickly clapped a hand over his mouth.

Tony hissed in his ear, a gentle encouragement to be quiet, before his entire hand slipped beneath Peter’s skirt and cupped his ass. The curve of his cheek fit perfectly against Tony’s palm, and the hard squeeze he gave it made Peter want to moan. He bit into the flesh of his hand to resist it.

Should this be happening? Should he let this continue? He was so much stronger than Tony, could easily turn around and throw the man across the room if he wanted to.

Tony’s fingers stroking along the curve of his ass sealed it. No, he didn’t want to throw Tony through a wall. He wanted his mentor to keep touching him, spark a fire between his legs that, if he was being honest, hadn’t been tended to in far too long. He had missed someone finding him attractive in his new clothing and touching him like this. And to have _Tony Stark_ of all people wanting their hands on him?

His legs separated subconsciously when he felt Tony’s fingers drift down to stroke the back of his sac cradled gently in the pair of white briefs underneath his skirt. Peter struggled not to moan as Tony’s fingers ran up the slit between his cheeks, until they found the flared base of the plug nestled inside of him. The noise Tony made at its discovery kicked up his heartbeat.

Tony played with it through the thin fabric of Peter’s underwear, turned it and pressed in until Peter squeaked; the sound, thankfully, was covered up by an explosion on the screen.

Lips pressed into the back of his neck as a hand curled around the one covering his mouth, Tony’s breath hot against his skin. Peter’s shuddered as Tony slipped his fingers past the hem and stroked the smooth skin around the plug’s base. Peter was sure his knees were knocking together hard enough to make noise, but none of the others seemed any wiser to what was happening behind them. The two hands around his mouth help muffle his moan when Tony’s fingers wrapped around the base and gave it a gentle tug.

“God, baby,” Tony whispered in his ear. He sounded so wrecked, it made Peter’s cock stir. “He really didn’t deserve you, fucking look at this. Makes me want to feel inside you, baby boy. Get my fingers in there and make you squirm.”

Peter would have bitten his lip if he could, would have gotten on his knees and _ begged _ him to. He missed this, missed someone finding him so desirable they couldn’t keep their hands off him, even with company not even fifty feet away.

Unable to speak, he just nodded. Tony chuckled.

“You want that, Petey? Want me to fuck you with my fingers?” Tony’s voice sent shivers down his spine, his skin tingling all the way down to his feet. Peter nodded again. His eyes clenched shut as Tony gave it a harder tug and pulled the flare of the plug against his rim. “Oh, honey, I’ve got you. Gonna treat you right, but you gotta be quiet. I don’t like sharing.”

Arousal hit Peter so hard he almost choked. _ I don’t like sharing _. The words echoed over in his head as Tony pulled at the plug again, twisting it until the largest part was pulled past the tight ring of his entrance, and Peter mewled quietly against his and Tony’s hand. He went up on his toes, hips jerking, and the head of his cock brushed against the side of the counter. He could feel how wet the front of his underwear was, wondered if he had leaked all the way through to his skirt.

Tony’s lips pressed against the back of his neck again, open-mouthed kisses tracing patterns across his skin while Tony pulled the rest of the plug out. He let it fall to the floor. The sound of it was covered up by gunfire. Peter clenched around the emptiness inside of him, barely hearing Tony’s praise of how cute his hole was.

He didn’t have time to complain about being empty, as two of Tony’s fingers slid into him. The lube was still wet and sticky, making the penetration easy, and god, did Peter squirm. Tony hadn’t done anything to him yet, but he was already rocking his hips back against Tony’s hand and palming at himself from underneath the counter. He was rock hard in his hand and his underwear was soaked.

Tony pumped his fingers in a few times. He did so slowly, working them through the slick inside of Peter’s hole, and then he crooked his fingers and pressed against Peter’s prostate. He thrust his fingers into it, didn’t let up, not until Peter was on his toes and arching against the counter. He moaned, quietly, in between their fingers. His cock leaked more into his underwear.

Peter’s toes nearly curled into floor. Tony chuckled in his ear, retracted his fingers, only to slide in three.

“You’re goddamn gorgeous like this, Pete,” he said in the boy’s ear, teeth grazing the shell and pinching the skin behind it.

Peter just moved his hips against Tony’s hand. The man’s voice, his words, right in his ear, made Peter’s head spin and his eyes roll back. He was so close, embarrassingly soon, and he didn’t want Tony to stop. He wanted to keep rocking back against the fingers in his ass, even with the rest of their team sitting only a few feet away.

Tony had other ideas. He was relentless in prodding Peter’s prostate. His touch turned just the right shade of rough, and his fingers dug into the meat of Peter’s cheek when he got louder, unable to contain little noises of pleasure and muffled pleas. Tony forced him closer to the counter.

The feeling of his mentor’s hard cock against the back of his thigh was what sent Peter over the edge. With a squeak into his palm and his legs going taut, Peter came into his fist, hips jerking and hole squeezing over Tony’s fingers. Tony helped him ride it out and teased his twitching rim after removing his fingers.

Peter leaned his weight against the counter and tried to catch his breath. He whimpered when Tony pulled away and replaced his fingers with the plug he had dropped earlier. His rim was raw and twitched around the rubber bulb as Tony pushed it back inside. Tony gave it a quick press in and laughed at Peter’s overstimulated whine. Peter's thighs shook so hard he was sure that he would end up on the floor if he tried to walk out.

Tony kissed the back of his neck again. “Come find me later, once the movie’s over. I’d _love_ to see Wanda’s old skirt hiked up those pretty hips of yours.”

Peter couldn’t hold back his gasp when Tony took hold of his hips and ground his hard-on between Peter’s cheeks.

And then Tony was gone, returning to the couch as though he hadn’t just fingered Peter so good that he made walking impossible. Peter could see him reach for the blanket, probably to help hide the erection he didn’t take care of while he was still behind the counter. One word from him, and Peter knew he would have gladly sunk to his knees for his mentor, would have let him use his throat as well.

With trembling hands, Peter reached for his phone. 

** _<<Don’t worry about this weekend. I’ll be spending it with someone who can appreciate having me all to themselves._ **


	7. Mirror Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day seven, featuring mirror sex! i'm a sucker for this kind of thing. 
> 
> **tags for this chapter:** mirror sex, anal sex, sex w/ feelings, praise

The talk got to him. Even when he grinned and joked with Tony’s peers, listened to lectures and talked shop with some of the world’s most brilliant minds who could appreciate his boy’s genius, it was always the judgement on his appearance that lingered on Peter’s mind. The words burrowed into his thoughts and corrupted that sweet love he had for Tony.

And Tony knew Peter heard it. At the bar, with his back turned to them, Tony could hear clearly every uttered word tearing his baby down. Where his baby stood across the room, engaging a nuclear physicist in pleasant conversation about the man’s two cats, Tony knew he could pick up their snotty words over the general purr of the crowd.

_ He’s so young, even for Stark's standards. You think he's out of diapers yet?_

_Didn't know Stark was willing to dive into dumpsters to find a boyfriend._

_ Parker isn’t even that cute. If Stark is so into boys, maybe I should talk my brother into seducing him. Anything’s gotta be better than gutter trash from Queens, right? _

It made Tony want to squeeze the glass in his hand so hard it shattered to pieces. His blood boiled and rage lit a fire in his chest that he tried and failed to douse with the liquor. As if sensing his fury, the bartender topped off his drink and gave him a little extra. Tony made sure she got an excellent tip for the kindness.

He never left Peter’s side during the remainder of the party, finishing his drink and refusing any offers of refills or new tumblers. Peter seemed to sense something was off but didn’t question it. He figured Peter was too busy trying to block out the gossip, visibly wincing when a nearby group of women giggled as they passed him. Tony recognized one of them from the bar.

The night ending was blissful, even as he and Peter ducked away from flashing cameras and into the car. Happy talked about the success of their publicity stunt that night and lauded them both with praise about how expertly they had rubbed elbows. Peter didn’t seem to be listening; he was turned away from Tony, crowding in on himself, taking up as little space as possible.

His hand fidgeting with the simple crimson and gold band Tony had given him, obviously playing with the idea of removing it, made Tony want to turn the car around.

His penthouse was a welcome sight away from all the peering and judging eyes of the PR events Pepper made him do. As he and Peter exited the car, Tony considered asking Peter to stop forcing himself to make appearances with him. He didn’t need to go to them, wasn’t involved in SI the way he and Pepper were. But would he be hurt, thinking that Tony agreed with those ugly sentiments whispered about him?

Even considering that idea made his heart ache. He didn’t want Peter to ever think that Tony didn’t love him.

The moment Happy was gone, Tony had his hands on Peter, kissing him, pressing him up against the wall the way he knew his boy liked and had him moaning into his mouth. Peter’s abilities came in handy when he could reach behind himself and pull himself up the wall so Tony could get his hands underneath him and hold him up. That sweet, soft ass in his hands.

Those ugly words were forgotten as Tony carried him to the bedroom, let Peter strip him out of his three-piece and took his boy’s clothes off with as much fragility. He was able to drown in the scent and taste and sounds of Peter under him until, with a shaking voice, Peter asked Friday to dim the bedroom lights.

His anger came back with a vengeance, and Tony let it heat up in his gut.

Instead of acting on it, he turned it into motivation. He eased Peter onto his stomach and traced the arch of his back with wet kisses while drenched fingers worked his pretty hole open. Peter’s thighs trembled as he moaned and whimpered into the bed sheets. He hadn’t looked Tony in the face since asking Friday about the lights, and that made his chest ache.

Peter made the prettiest sounds when Tony entered him and began slow, deep thrusts. He buried himself in Peter’s tight heat and draped himself across Peter’s back so he could kissed his neck and whisper in his ear. Oh, how perfect he was, how gorgeous, and how patient he was to put up with Tony’s shitty admirers. That earned him a breathy laugh, face still pressed into the bed sheets.

And then Tony ordered the blinds closed. Close off the view of the city and leave them to themselves. “Give us the reflective side, Fri. Leave the city in the dark.”

Peter didn’t get a chance to ask what Tony was doing or why he wanted the reflective surface facing the bedroom. Tony’s arm was around his middle and hauling him up against Tony’s chest. He let his head fall back onto Tony’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as he pushed back against Tony’s hips. Tony sucked a dark hickey into his exposed neck before taking his chin and turning it towards their reflection.

“Eyes open, baby,” he whispered into Peter’s ear.

Peter did as he was told, eyes going wide when he saw the way they pressed to one another, how they were connected, and he tried to jerk his head away. Tony wouldn’t let him, tightening his hold on Peter’s chin. He shushed his boy with a gentle kiss to the skin behind his ear.

“Don’t look away, Pete. Keep watching. God, look at how gorgeous you are. Can’t get enough of you, my sweet boy. Got me wrapped around every goddamn inch of you.”

Tony punctuated his words with a harder thrust. Peter choked around a moan catching in his throat, and Tony was glad to see his eyes were locked on them, half-lidded from pleasure and alcohol. He whimpered when Tony pressed more kisses to his neck and hair, pinching a pert, pink nipple between his fingers and watching through the reflectors how Peter’s lips fell further apart.

His hand fell from Peter’s chin down to his red, aching cock. He stroked along the shaft, teased the head, and sucked a hickey into the skin of his shoulder while Peter’s eyes remained locked on them. Tony cooed into his ear, praised him, told him every thought that came to mind about how much he loved him, everything about him. From his silky chestnut curls all the way to his pleasure-curled toes, Tony loved him.

“Can’t keep my eyes off you,” Tony moaned into his neck, thrusts growing faster and shallower, as Peter’s moans pitched higher and higher. “Room full of athletes and models, and you’re the most gorgeous one there. Had me hypnotized tonight, baby. Still got me, even now. Look at yourself. Look how beautiful you are on my cock.”

Peter’s broken moan was angelic. He whined and grabbed at Tony’s pumping hand, encasing his wrist in a bruising grip and trying to fuck into his fist. Tony moaned praise against his neck. He urged him to come, to keep his eyes open as he did. To see himself the way Tony saw him.

One moan, two, then Peter’s voice cracked and keened as he came over Tony’s fingers, moaning his name, nails digging into Tony’s skin as he continued jerking his hips up. Peter’s eyes shut and his head fell back against Tony’s shoulder as Tony sped up his pace; he chased his own orgasm and let go of Peter’s cock to pull him closer. Peter’s quiet, overstimulated little gasps urged him on, and Tony ground his hips up into Peter’s ass when he came.

Peter was a panting, sweating, trembling mess. Tony whispered his affection into Peter’s skin as he pulled out. He eased Peter against his chest, turning his head once again to their reflections. Peter didn’t have to be told to open his eyes. He did so slowly, irises blown large and black.

He reached behind to card his fingers through Tony’s equally sweaty hair and smiled at the sight of them together.


	8. Jealousy/Possessiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day eight, featuring a prompt full of jealousy and possessiveness. another sim!tony/dark!peter fic. i really, really enjoyed this one. *A*
> 
> **tags for this chapter:** sim!tony, dark!peter, daddy kink, choking, cheating, slight degradation

Peter hated Tony so goddamn much.

He knew he looked angry and didn’t bother trying to hide his glower. Tony stood across the busy ballroom with his arm around the waist of one woman in a short black dress, and his other arm was extended to tilt up the chin of another, with a silver-sequin dress so flashy that it nearly blinded Peter. His eyes, a dark crimson, altered by the Extremis and radioactive venom racing through him, followed every move of Tony’s fingers on both women.

The wine glass in his hand would be so easy to shatter. He could break the glass holding his drink and use it as a makeshift blade to slice her throat open, _ really _ give Tony something to get between his fingers other than her dark mahogany hair.

As delectable as that thought was, he settled for something tamer and less flashy: the attention of the older man just a few feet down from him at the bar. He wasn’t much taller than Tony, with dirty blond hair slicked back and a smile that would make anyone who saw it swoon. Anyone who wasn’t Peter, that is. Still, he’d do for the time being.

He let the man buy him a drink, then two drinks, then three. Let his hands wander a little too low and grab at his ass, let him lean in so close that Peter could smell the brandy on his breath and the lingering scent of mint. He refrained from sending the man through the floor-to-ceiling window behind them when he felt fingers dig into his ass and flashed a sultry smile when the man suggested they “find somewhere more private.”

Peter could do private. He could also send Tony a look over his shoulder when the man took his hand and pulled him off towards a side door. Peter caught Tony’s eyes and simply waved before the ballroom disappeared, and they were left to wander the connecting hallway to find an empty room.

An unlocked conference room proved to be a sufficient hideout, and Peter had barely taken a step inside before he was shoved hard against the table, and the man was on him. He kissed like an inexperienced high schooler, groped like one, too. Did his partners enjoy this or just put up with him for a pretty face?

Either way Peter kissed back. (Maybe he could teach the man a thing or two, make this kiss a little more enjoyable.) He threaded his fingers through the man’s gelled hair and let him manhandle him until Peter was sat on the table with his legs wrapped around the man’s middle and his hard cock digging into Peter’s hip. Peter had never been so soft in his life.

A hand that was a little too rough groped at his flaccid cock. Peter hissed and had to bite back against punching the man so hard he broke his ribs.

“What’s the matter, princess?” he slurred into Peter's neck. Peter was sure he was being drooled on. “You having trouble getting it up? Too nervous? That’s okay, Daddy can help you.”

Peter's stomach churned. The fingers blindly and clumsily grabbing at his cock were too rough and uncoordinated to feel good. If anything, they hurt and annoyed him. He was now seriously considering throwing the man through a window and giving up.

Until the door to the conference room opened just as his belt was undone, and over the man’s shoulder, he could see Tony, eyes burning with anger as he took in the scene before him. Peter’s eyes flashed when they met his, and he snaked his arms around the man’s shoulders, heels digging into the small of his back to bring him closer.

“Oh, _Daddy_,” he moaned into the man’s ear, giving his neck a long, wet stripe with his tongue. His eyes never left Tony’s.

“You want me to fuck you on this table, babe?” The man slid his other hand around to cup Peter’s ass and rock their hips together. Peter felt nothing when the man’s filthy clothed cock rubbed against his thigh. “Want Daddy to make you scream?”

“More like snore, if that soft little thing is anything to go by.”

Oh, Peter thought, he speaks.

The man he had lured away from the crowd jumped and let out a startled yelp. He couldn’t have torn himself away from Peter faster if Peter had put a foot between them and kicked him into the drywall. He was still half-hard when he turned around, eyes wide and hands flying up in surrender. Even in the dark of the room, the only source of light a streetlamp from outside, Peter could see his face going pale.

If he was being honest, Peter was surprised the man hadn’t pissed himself.

Tony stepped into the room and let the door fall shut behind him. His eyes were on Peter as he took one step inside, then another, hands shoved into his pockets.

He tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips. Peter leaned back on his hands and hiked one of his feet up onto the table so that his legs were spread. In any other circumstances, Peter knew this would have enticed Tony. Instead, it only seemed to piss him off. His eyes were shining in the darkness, icy blue and cold. Tony's face never changed from his calm stare, but Peter could feel the anger rolling off his skin, could see the rage burning in the pools of blue.

“I don’t remember you being so desperate that you’d fuck any piece of garbage that bought you a drink,” Tony said. His voice was smooth, unbothered.

Peter sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and failed to fight off a proud smirk. He tilted his head to the side as well, fingers drumming on the mahogany table he was sat on. “That’s rich coming from you. I saw you with the whore in silver. Did it turn you on, seeing her in your colors? Fuckin’ dirty old man is easier than me.”

Tony sniffed, swallowed. He clicked his tongue.

“I never let them touch me like that, baby boy.” Tony jerked his head towards Peter’s playmate, who was now whimpering and knocking his knees together. What a cliche, but Peter wasn’t given time to let his thoughts linger on it before Tony’s hand was enveloped in silver, and the light from his repulsor was near blinding after so long in darkness.

The gauntlet purred to life with a shot charging. The light cradled in its palm grew brighter and brighter with each passing second, and Tony pointed it right at the man’s chest. His eyes left Peter’s to the trembling man before him and, ah, he had definitely pissed himself now.

“Should I kill you for touching what’s mine?” Tony asked. His words were ice. Peter’s cock jumped in his slacks, growing harder by the second as Tony advanced on his previous partner until the gauntlet was flush with his chest. “You put your filthy, disgusting little hands on my boy. Though, I have to hand it to you, I’ve never seen his cock so soft in my life. I’m actually more offended that you couldn’t get him hard, if I’m being honest.”

“Bold of you to claim me as yours when you’re out there ogling women. Go find that brown-haired whore and let my _ Daddy _ treat me right, for once.” Peter leaned back on his elbows, arching his back just right. Even if Tony couldn’t see him, he could catch the other man’s attention.

Tony turned his head so fast that Peter was surprised he didn’t crack his neck. He chewed on his thumb nail and smiled at Tony. The quiet anger in his eyes made Peter’s heart skip and thud in his chest.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet boy.” Tony dropped his hand and sauntered over to where Peter was laid out on the table, settling himself in between Peter’s spread thighs. He took a moment to rake his eyes down Peter’s body, drink in the sight of his pretty little boy with his legs wide apart for a stranger, and his jaw set tight.

The gauntlet whirred to life again, and the man fell to his knees and begged for mercy.

But Tony never showed mercy.

It was why Peter loved him.

He let his hand fall from his lips as Tony’s fingers wrapped tight and hard around his throat, and Peter could feel the recoil of the repulsor’s blast rock through Tony’s body into his. He felt the splash of blood on his cheek, smelled its coppery tang, and heard the body fall to the floor. A few wet breaths escaped his bloody chest, a weak sob, and then silence.

Peter was so hard that he hurt. He squirmed under Tony’s grip tightening around his neck, whining as Tony forced his head down and back until he was lying against the table’s flat surface. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was nothing but a wheeze.

Above him, Tony chuckled and leaned over him.

“I ought to teach you a lesson, Peter,” Tony growled. His lips were inches from Peter’s. If he leaned down just a little, just enough, Peter could kiss him. He could part his lips and let Tony’s tongue taste the drinks that had been bought for him, the mouth of the other man. “Ought to fuck you here to remind you of your place. You know who you belong to, Peter.”

Peter licked his lips, grinning when Tony used his gauntlet to twist his fist into Peter’s clothing and hold him down on the table. He let out a little moan when he heard it whirring.

“Do your worst,” he said and hooked a leg over Tony’s hip.


	9. Praise Kink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a short one today! 
> 
> **tags for this chapter:** praise kink, sex with feelings

“You’re perfect, Pete. Look so goddamn pretty like this, all spread out for me.”

Peter’s breath shuddered at the words, his eyes locked on Tony’s as he was pressed into the mattress. His thighs were open on each side of Tony’s hips, heels digging into the older man’s back, with his hands tangling in the sheets above his head. He was flushed red at his cheeks and chest, and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead.

Peter was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. Tony wasn’t sure what he had done in a past life to deserve such a perfect boy.

He made sure to whisper as much into his hair as he fucked into him slowly. Tony made sure his touches were equally as soft when he held Peter’s wrists in place and kissed along the sweaty skin of his neck. Peter’s answering moan was sweet and quiet in his ear.

“Fuck!” he cried, voice pitched high and breathy. His fingers wrenching into the sheets. He held them like they were the only thing tethering him. “So good, I can’t get enough. Don’t stop, just like that. Please, Tony, _ don’t stop _.”

Tony moaned, his thrusts remaining slow and so fucking deep. Peter felt amazing. He was hot and wet from Tony’s fingers working him open, nothing but pure bliss around Tony’s cock. Tony pressed a gentle kiss to the angle of Peter’s jaw on another slow roll of his hips.

Peter kissed his ear and pulled his hands free to cradle the back of Tony’s neck, moving his hips down on Tony’s cock. He met him on each thrust and whimpered at the slow drag of it.

“You make me feel amazing. Don’t want anyone else; could never feel like this without you, _ oh _ .”

Peter’s hands tightened in his hair, a sharp pain that made Tony see stars behind his eyelids. His boy’s voice was so pretty as he neared the edge. Tony pulled Peter closer and felt his thudding pulse against his chest, and ground their hips together until he heard his boy sob in his ear, followed by words so sweet Tony felt his teeth ache.


	10. In Costume/Suit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tags for this chapter:** dry humping, clothed getting off

Getting your shit kicked in was part of the superhero gig. Bad guys liked violence, good guys liked putting them in their place. In Peter’s case, he liked the adrenaline rush of doing something good and seeing the results of his interference directly. There was no rush like webbing up a few petty criminals and letting them hang while they waited for the cops to arrive. Nothing could compare.

(Except for that time Peter witnessed Flash walking into a pole while he was filming one of his unbearable livestreams. That was definitely in his top 5 for _ Best Moments of My Life _.)

But tonight seemed to be different. He was struggling to come down from the high of catching someone mid-assault, getting to kick him so hard one of his teeth broke, and watching as the would-be victim ran into a nearby movie theater for help. It hadn’t been an easy fight; the attacker was twice his weight, easy, and had managed to land a few grabs on him that had the fabric of his suit screeching from severed fibers.

The knife he had been carrying had burned when it sliced into Peter’s skin. More damage to his suit, more injuries to heal from. They’d be gone before morning.

His skin was exposed where the suit had been damaged, a little blood here and there soaking into what was left. Karen alerted him to Tony summoning him to the tower to have it fixed. He’d look into replacing the fibers with something a little more durable, less prone to tearing.

_ Big Guy himself won’t be able to tear it when I’m through. _

Peter’s adrenaline only seemed to increase with every swing through the city, every twist and flip through construction fixtures and pipes crisscrossing the roofs of apartment complexes. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears and his heart was pounding so hard he swore it would burst through his ribs.

Stark Tower was barely a mile away, and Peter felt as though he had gotten there in record time. He tore his mask off the second he landed on the pad outside. His lungs burned, like the thin material had suffocated him during his rooftop sprint.

Tony greeted him at the doorway with eyes wide with concern. He reached for Peter when he approached, words already spilling from his lips that Peter’s heartbeat drowned out. Peter was sure he wasn’t expecting to be dragged down into a frenzied and uncoordinated kiss, but that certainly didn’t stop him from responding when he felt Peter’s lips against his.

And it didn’t stop him from pulling Peter in close and letting Peter’s tongue slip past his lips.

It didn’t stop him from turning them so Peter was pressed against one of the windows inside, his arms looped around Tony’s shoulders, with fingers threading through his mask-matted hair. He moaned into Tony’s mouth when he felt one of the man’s strong thighs slip between his own. He was half-hard in his suit, still high on the hormones racing through his blood. He dug his fingers into Tony’s tank top and ground himself against his thigh.

Tony’s hands fell to his hips, thumbs slotting against the jut of them so easily, and he guided each slow roll of Peter’s hips. He growled when Peter moaned his name into his neck, black threads snapping beneath his grip. Tony didn’t seem to care, only worried about leaving hickeys spattered across Peter’s pale neck.

Tony pressed a kiss to the corner of his open mouth and chuckled when he turned to reciprocate it.

“Tough night?” he asked. Peter just moaned and ground harder against him. Peter could feel Tony’s own erection pressing against him each time he rocked up.

“Can’t,” he panted, and he stopped to swallow down a desperate whine, “can’t come down. Too worked up.”

Tony grunted; he probably understood what Peter meant, probably had days like those himself. Only difference was Peter had someone to come home to, to help him cool down.

His moans grew in pitch and volume when Tony reached behind him to sink his fingers into the plush globes of Peter’s ass and pull him so high up his leg that Peter rose onto his toes to keep his balance. The friction of their clothes made his thighs shake. It was so good, so much. His heart was somehow beating harder.

“Please.” Peter pressed his face against Tony’s neck, moans spilling from his lips unabashed and breathless. His voice cracked. “Please let me come, Tony. I’m so close, so close.”

Tony chuckled in his ear and nipped at his earlobe. “Yeah, baby, you can come. Whatever you need.”

Peter ground down harder, tightened his grip around Tony’s neck, moaned and keened as more and more encouragement and praise spilled from Tony’s lips. Each word lit a fire in his gut. The pressure between his hips grew with each movement. Tony pressed his lips to Peter’s temple and pet his hair while Peter rocked and moved against him.

The pressure built and built until Peter couldn’t stand it anymore, and the hot coil in his gut burst. His moan was littered with thanks and Tony’s name over and over again, body taut with heat as he rode it out until the pleasure ebbed into pain. He gave a few aborted thrusts then, before sagging back against the window with his head thrown back.

His heart was still beating hard, but the blood rush was fading. He could hear properly again, tuning his focus into Tony’s words of praise spoken into his skin.


	11. Power Bottom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a slightly more angsty entry today, with an au where peter survives the snap and is also older. 
> 
> **tags for the chapter:** past stony, sex with feelings, anal sex,

There was history between Tony and Steve. Their get-together, their wedding, their short-lived marriage, their divorce; all of it had been public knowledge. There was very little about the six years they had been together that the public wasn’t made privy to, so Peter knew that he had some awfully big shoes to fill when his and Tony’s own relationship became public just before Thanos made his appearance.

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect, even if most of the world was more focused on Tony dating someone a third of his age rather than the alien donut that floated in the sky for nearly an entire day. Peter had put up with the scrutiny and judgment for the man he loved. He was strong, _ they _ were strong, together. They could make it past anything.

Except, of course, Tony’s ex showing up. He had stood by, pretending to be preoccupied with their coffee maker while he listened in on Tony and Steve arguing on the porch. He tried not to eavesdrop, but his super-dialed senses and insatiable curiosity were a dangerous combination. He knew Steve and Tony were talking about Thanos, about how to bring back everyone that had been taken away, and restore the earth to what it had previously been.

And Peter had chosen to look out the window at that moment. A mistake, really. The last thing he needed to see was Steve reaching out to grasp Tony’s hand in his, squeezing as he did so, and Tony letting him. It made his chest ache, and he was caught cleaning up shards of a ceramic coffee mug that had shattered under his strength.

Tony was oddly quiet when Steve left. His eyes avoided Peter’s, voice a low mumble when he retreated to a worktable built into their cozy little cabin downstairs. He hadn’t even noticed Peter setting down a mug of coffee for him before retreating to their bedroom.

They existed together for two days. Passing greetings, never touching, both compartmentalizing their emotions until Peter found he had had enough. He couldn’t stand it, feeling like a stranger to the man he loved.

So he waited in bed. He smoothed the lines of his face and slowed his breathing when he heard Tony walk into their room, relieve himself in the bathroom, and run the faucet for longer than was necessary to wash his hands. There was the distinct sound of splashing, like he was throwing it over his face, before he eventually crawled into bed beside Peter.

The man had just settled down into the mattress when Peter pounced. His thighs locked around Tony’s waist and hands held Tony’s above his head. Whatever exhaustion was in him left the moment he realized he was being held down, and the panic swapped to confusion when he saw Peter was the one straddling him.

He blinked dumbly for a few seconds before saying, “Peter, what are you doing?”

Peter smirked, trying to keep his facade up as he bent low to kiss Tony, press their lips together just enough to get Tony interested, then pull back. Tony only looked more confused by his actions. A kiss wasn’t exactly an answer, not when Tony’s brain had a million questions running through it.

“I’ve missed you,” Peter opted to say instead of the truth. Instead of admitting his fear.

“I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“Not physically.” Peter kissed him again, more insistent this time, and Tony seemed to understand. He met Peter’s kiss partway with as little room to move as Peter gave him. His hands clenched into fists where they were held above his head. “But ever since Steve came around, you’ve been avoiding me. It’s like living with a ghost.”

Tony looked guilty, then. He swallowed and tried to avoid Peter’s gaze. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, baby.”

Peter hummed into his next kiss and tried not to laugh when he felt Tony fight against him. The muscles rippled under his fingers. Tony tried, and failed, to pull himself from Peter’s grip. Peter almost wanted to press him further into the mattress, a small abuse of his strength, but he held himself back.

Tony hissed when he felt Peter’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, just enough to entice. “Let me make it up to you, Pete,” he begged. “Let me show you just how sorry I am for making you feel ignored.”

Peter shook his head.

“I want control, Tony.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Whatever you want, baby.”

Peter released his hands then, threading his fingers through the hair beginning to grow silver and groaning when he felt Tony’s hands reach up to cradle his face. The gentle, rhythmic swipe of Tony’s thumbs across his cheeks made him want to cry. His eyes certainly burned but he fought back against them and instead buried his face into Tony’s neck.

His moans were muffled in Tony’s warm skin as he began to roll his hips down, slowly and evenly against Tony. He felt Tony’s hands move down to grip them, but there was no guidance in his grip, no moves made to control the speed. He held onto him just to dig his fingers into the plushness of Peter’s thighs.

Tony felt solid under him when he stripped Peter of his clothing, when he let Peter all but shred his own. Tony’s fingers on his bare skin grounded him there, and when the first two breached inside with the help of a generous amount of lube, he couldn’t help moaning Tony’s name and riding against the digits. He reached back to grab at Tony’s wrist, use it to pull the fingers deeper, and he cried out when he felt a hot spark of pleasure course through him.

“That’s it, baby,” Tony whispered into his neck, adding a third finger and crooking them the way he knew Peter liked. “You feel perfect, so perfect. Love you so much, Pete.”

Peter swallowed against a choked sob when he kissed Tony then, murmuring his own love into his lips. He pushed Tony’s hands away when he was ready and slid down Tony’s cock. It filled and stretched him, a pleasant and dull ache as he felt Tony’s hips beneath him. Nails bit into his cheeks, urging him to move, but Peter kept the pace he wanted.

He pressed his forehead against Tony’s as he started a slow grind. His fingers splayed out on Tony’s chest, each of his moans accompanied by Tony’s lips pressing against his, his tongue lapping at the gap between them.

Peter’s hips rose and fell, his moans growing in volume, heat taking over and making his head fuzzy. He missed this, missed having Tony in him, under him, _ with him _. And Tony missed it too, if the way he grabbed at Peter’s hand and brought it to his lips to place a kiss over his palm said anything. His voice was so infuriatingly soft when he whispered to Peter how much he loved him.

Any other time, and Peter would have been embarrassed by how quickly he came. It snuck up on him; he didn’t realize how close he was getting to release until it crashed over him, and he spilled out across Tony’s chest with a weak whine and his lover’s name uttered on his lips. Tony’s hands returned to his face, wiping away tears he hadn’t realized were spilling between his lashes.

Tony came a few moments after him, chanting Peter’s name as he kissed every inch of his face. He stroked Peter’s back and held him through the trembling. Even when it subsided, when Peter’s tears had dried and Tony had grown soft and slipped out of him, Tony held him close.

“I love you, Peter,” he whispered into Peter’s hair as they pressed closer and closer together. “I love you so, so much.”

The next morning, Steve showed up again. Peter was there to greet him this time, a steaming mug of coffee in hand when Tony ushered him in. He smiled at Steve, even waved, and felt a sense of ease wash over him when Tony denied him the chance to speak privately. "Anything you need to say to me," he announced, arms crossing across his chest, "can be said in front of Peter."


	12. Cum Swallowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short, but this was so much fun to write!! i hope y'all are enjoying reading these as much as i'm enjoying writing them. :D
> 
> **tags for this chapter:** blowjobs, slight daddy kink, cum eating

Peter loved the feel of Tony’s cock sitting on his tongue. His lips stretched around the girth of it, drool dripping down the corner of his mouth as he buried his nose into Tony’s pubic hair and swallowed around him. He drowned in the quiet moan of approval from above, the lightheaded bliss of having his Daddy’s fingers thread gently in his hair.

He knew Tony wanted to fuck his mouth. Tony wanted to wrap his fist around Peter’s soft brown curls and pound into his throat until the boy’s face was wet with tears and spit and his voice was utterly wrecked from the abuse. But Tony let him have control, let him take him as far and fast as he wanted.

He lavished Peter with praise; he told him how good he was, how good he felt, how good he made Tony feel. Peter soaked it all up, his own moans vibrating through Tony and leaving the man shuddering.

Peter knew he was getting close. His breathing grew shallow, balls growing tight. The muscles in his legs stiffened under Peter’s fingers. Tony gave a few aborted thrusts, Peter’s only warning that he was getting close. Peter pulled his head back from the base and hollowed his cheeks. His hand moved from Tony’s thigh to the wet shaft. His fingers wrapped around him, pumping in time with the gentle suckles on the head.

He wanted to tell Tony to come, but he kept his lips around the head and kept up his pace. His eyes locked on the quivering muscles of Tony’s abdomen as he neared the precipice and, with an almost pained moan of Peter’s name, spilled over.

The taste was overwhelming, splashing across his tongue and the insides of his cheeks. He sucked and sucked on the head as Tony came down from the high, held it all in his mouth. He let it linger on his tongue, and sparks ran across his skin when he felt Tony’s fingers gently caress his cheek.

His thumb tugged at the corner of Peter’s bottom lip. “Open your mouth, baby. Let me see.”

Peter watched Tony’s eyes light up as he did what Tony asked, his lips parting and tongue poking out between them to show him where his spend coated it. Tony groaned at the sight of him and used his thumb to catch a stray drop beginning to leak from the tip. Peter kept his eyes locked with Tony’s when he wrapped his lips around it and sucked.

Tony watched him pull off with a wet _ pop _. His fingers wrapped gently around Peter’s throat at the boy’s insistence so he could feel when Peter swallowed.

“That’s my boy,” Tony groaned when Peter’s lips parted and he showed Tony his empty mouth.


	13. Dacryphillia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> real short one today
> 
> **tags for this chapter:** sim!tony, implied dark!peter, rough sex, crying during sex

Tony was a monster. He was immortal, a _ god _, and he knew it.

That fact was no more apparent to him than when he was looking into his precious boy’s eyes, holding him down and rendering him helpless as his hips pistoned hard and fast. Those pretty plush lips parted on a sob when Tony ground his hips in; a growl vibrated in his chest when he felt that hot little hole squeeze around him.

Tears, clear and shining, poured down Peter’s face. He hiccuped and gasped when Tony gripped his chin between his fingers. The force was enough to make Peter’s jaw ache.

“Aw, baby, what’s the matter?” he cooed with a soft chuckle. “Is Daddy being too rough on you? You want him to ease up?”

Peter sniffled, a hand reached up to grip at Tony’s wrist. His fingers dug into Peter’s soft, wet cheeks.

“Y-You’re,” Peter hiccuped, eyes clenched shut on a hard moan and spilling more and more tears down his cheeks. Tony released Peter’s chin to smear the tears across his face. He looked gorgeous, face wet and completely wrecked beneath Tony.

“I’m what, princess?” Tony’s mouth quirked up into a smirk and his fingers grabbed Peter’s hair so hard he tore a pained grunt from Peter’s chest. “Use your words.”

Peter keened at the sharp pain of Tony pulling his head to the side. His scalp burned. A whine dragged itself from him when Tony’s hands seemed to close even tighter around the fistful of hair.

“You’re,” Peter painted, and each blink of his eye pushed new tears out, “you’re going easy on me.”


	14. Knife Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> knife play! it's one of my favorite kinks to write about. *A* 
> 
> **tags for this chapter:** mafia au, mentions of torture, sadistic!peter, knife play, daddy kink, do not try this at home

There was blood on Peter’s clothes, sunken too deep into the fabric to wash out. His face was specked with droplets and it clumped up beneath his fingernails. The sour smell of copper breached Tony’s lungs with each heavy breath in, and he could taste its metallic bitterness on his tongue.

The SHIELD agent needed to pay. A fan of the good Captain, he had made the mistake of trying to infiltrate Tony’s ranks and spy on him for their organization. Tony had wanted him dead the moment Pepper informed him of who he was; if there was one thing Tony couldn’t stomach in this world, it was a fucking rat.

But no, his boy had intervened. “I’m bored, Daddy,” the sweet thing had said to him from where he had been perched on Tony’s lap, a queen on her throne. “Let me play with him, just a little bit. I promise not to let him touch me.”

Tony couldn’t deny him, then. A toy for his boy to play with until he was bored of it, or until the pieces broke off.

Or if Peter broke them off himself. The one little trinket Peter had never gotten tired of was the Bowie knife he kept on him at all times, in a holster wrapped around his thigh and expertly hidden in public. It helped him tear his toys apart when he was growing tired of them and gave them a little more usefulness before he threw them away.

Now, he watched Peter break his toy down and milk him for the last few minutes of entertainment he could. The blood would be hell to wash off Peter's skin, but watching the delighted light in Peter’s eyes burning was worth it, Tony supposed.

When the man’s screams eventually faded and he stopped moving, Peter stood back and wiped the blood off the blade and onto his sweater.

“He was fun while he lasted,” was all he said, in such a sweet voice that Tony wondered if he was teasing or actually disappointed.

Tony gestured for him to come over, and he did, while a handful of Tony’s men began to clean up Peter’s mess. There was blood all over the tile floor, spilling over into the drain beneath the man’s chair. Tony called for them to gather a finger or two and send them off as a warning; this is what happens when you attempt to infiltrate Tony’s ranks.

Peter climbed up into his lap, dirty and bloodstained, and kissed him. Tony thought nothing of the stains his clothes would bear when Peter pulled away. He just focused on the artificial cherry flavor on his boy’s lips.

And the tip of a cold blade pressed into his neck, just above his carotid.

Tony narrowed his eyes at Peter, who was giggling against his lips and twisting the knife into his skin. It dimpled under the blade but didn’t pierce his skin. Over Peter’s shoulder, two of his men were watching with their hands drifting down to their weapons. Tony held a hand up.

“Still bored, baby?” he asked. “Is nothing ever enough for you?”

Peter pressed another kiss to his lips. Tony could feel the sharp prick, and then a warm tickle as blood made its way down his neck and soaked into the collar of his shirt.

“You’re enough for me, Daddy.” Tony’s fingers wrapped around the hand holding Peter’s knife to his throat, an encouraging pull that pressed the blade harder against his neck. “You’re more than enough.”


	15. Clothing Theft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time to take a break from all the smut and kink to bring you some softer sex. plus, ppl stealing their s/o's clothing is my absolutely favorite trope, so i couldn't resist. *A*
> 
> **warnings for this chapter:** sex with feelings, morning sex

Tony was content to wake up in bed alone. He had done so before, and even been the warm body to sneak out of the room before the sun was even up. He shouldn’t have been surprised, or even disappointed, to find that Peter had done the same to him. The whole evening had been a series of small mistakes leading up this, to Tony waking up and thinking that maybe the sweet young man that always smiled at him and revered him would dash the second he came to his senses.

Kid couldn’t even be polite about it, either. Tony noticed right away that amongst the scattered clothing, his black AC/DC shirt, with the logo in bright hot rod red, was missing. It was a little faded and worn, years of use, and the kid had just up and taken it.

Like a trophy. Damn, that was cold.

He found a pair of simple plaid sweatpants to pull on before Friday’s voice rang out in his bedroom: “Morning, boss! It’s gonna be a sunny morning, the temperature sitting at a very comfortable eighty-three degrees, and Peter is almost done making breakfast for you.”

Tony could practically hear the gears in his brain grind to a halt.

“I’m sorry, Peter is doing what now?”

If his AI could physically point at him and laugh, Tony is sure she would be doing so now. “Peter is in the kitchen cooking breakfast for you. He didn’t want to make your coffee until you were up, in case it went cold. He was entertaining the thought of bringing you breakfast in bed before you got up. Should I inform him you’re awake?”

Tony shook his head. No, he wanted to see Peter for himself, candid and unaware of his presence. Friday said nothing in response, letting Tony have his thoughts in silence until he gathered enough courage to walk out into the kitchen.

Keeping his entrance under wraps was probably the best decision he could make. How else was he going to catch Peter wandering around the kitchen and humming along to a song Tony didn’t know, flipping pancakes with a simple flick of his wrist, no spatula necessary. His hair was wet, possibly from a shower, and clung in wet curls to his forehead and neck.

He was wearing that faded AC/DC shirt, which fell just below his ass, leaving his long and lean legs on full display. The hem of his bright red briefs poked out from beneath the hem of the shirt, but he wore nothing else. Peter looked comfortable, like he had made himself completely at home in Tony’s kitchen.

Despite the fondness warming his chest, Tony felt his cock stir at the sight of him flitting around the kitchen. Even if he had kept it as a trophy, Tony found that he didn’t entirely mind. It looked a million times better on Peter than it did on him.

Tony let himself remain invisible until, finally, Peter just happened to glance his way. His face turned as red as his underwear, and he put his arms across his chest. A vain attempt to hide the shirt from Tony’s eyes.

“M-Mr. Stark! Er, I mean, Tony, or, no wait,” Peter stammered. His tongue tripped over each word as Tony’s shoulders shook with laughter. “I’m sorry, I should have asked before just walking in here and cooking, but I got hungry, and I thought that you—”

Tony didn’t hear most of the rambling, too distracted by how delicious Peter looked in his clothing.

Breakfast be damned. Tony walked up to Peter mid-rant, took his face in his hands, and kissed him. There was little resistance, Peter just giving him a muffled _ mph! _ of surprise before melting into the kiss and wrapping his arms around Tony’s middle. He kissed with a smile, lips stretching so wide that Tony found it difficult to continue the act himself. It was sweet, should have made Tony’s teeth hurt.

Instead it went straight to his dick, twitching in Tony’s sweatpants, and Tony let his hands drift downwards from Peter’s cheeks to his hips. He pulled Peter in, let him feel just how much he was affected by the sight of Peter wearing his clothes. The moan that earned him turned his next movements into a blur.

One moment, he was holding Peter close and letting him feel the growing erection press against him. The next, Peter’s sitting on the counter with his underwear pulled to the side and Tony’s discovering that his body had played with himself while in the shower, still wet and soft from the night before, with a fresh coating of lube. It took little additional prep for Tony to slide into him, and Peter’s ankles crossing behind his hips locked him there when he’s fully seated and flush with Peter’s chest.

Peter moaned into his mouth, a hand at his neck and the other laying out against the counter to move with each of Tony’s thrusts. His fingers dug into Peter’s thighs as he fucked into his tight heat. Praise for how wonderful he felt, how perfectly he wrapped around Tony’s cock, spilled from Tony’s lips.

A particular thrust made Peter’s body go taut, made him cry out and scratch his nails down Tony’s back. Tony was sure he’d be feeling those within the next hour.

“There,” Peter moaned in his ear, thighs tightening around Tony’s hips as he angled himself and repeated the same movement. “There, there, don’t stop. Mr. Stark, _ Tooony _, please!”

“Pick a name, Pete,” Tony teased, although the thought of Peter calling him _ Mr. Stark _ in bed had his cock throbbing inside the boy’s tight little hole. He pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Peter’s neck. “Feel amazing, baby. So tight on my cock, like you were made to take it.”

Peter keened at that. Tony knew the boy was hard in his underwear, his hands too preoccupied with grabbing and holding onto Tony to do anything about his own arousal. The tip of his cock soaked through the thin fabric of his underwear and shirt, the thin fabric just a bit darker in one little patch.

Tony couldn’t get over how good he looked in his shirt. His pace quickened, and with it, Peter’s high little moans. He settled on the name _ Tony _ and said it between every other breath, nails once again raking hot paths down his back. Tony loved every sharp prick of his nails.

“Fuck yeah, just like that.” Tony twisted his head to capture Peter’s lips and drink down each little moan. Peter’s tongue held onto the taste of his coffee, just as smooth and sweet as he was. “I like the way you look in my clothes. I’d give you my whole damn wardrobe if it meant waking up to this every morning.”

Peter’s chuckle quickly faded into a whine. He rolled his hips to meet Tony’s every thrust, the wet patch on his underwear only growing by the second. He made no attempts to reach for himself.

Tony could feel himself growing close, thought about pulling away so he wouldn’t come inside, but Peter gave him no room to move away from him. His arms and legs kept Tony in place. The needy little whimpers in his ear, the desperate way Peter clung to him, the way the boy said his damn _ name _—

It was all too much. Tony’s release hit him fast and hard, had him groaning into Peter’s neck while his hips stuttered against Peter’s own. Peter moaned, high and airy, in Tony’s ear. Tony thought briefly of the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom, clean as he was, but Peter certainly wasn’t complaining. He rocked against Tony’s stomach, cock trapped between them.

Tony kissed away his whimpers and slid his fingers into the stretched, thin fabric of Peter’s underwear. “Hey, Pete. Let me help you.”


	16. Shotgunning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one gave me a lil trouble while i was writing, so it's not my best work lol.
> 
> **tags for this chapter:** mafia!au, riding, smoking, shotgunning

Tony knew that Peter hated the smell of his cigarettes, could barely stand the Brazillian cigars he would light and chew on in his office. He made sure not to smoke around his boy when he could, especially when he was in his favorite clothes; nothing made him want to kick his vices more than Peter refusing to wear Tony’s favorite ensembles because they smelled acrid and sour.

But it was just that, a vice, something Tony couldn’t just _give up_, despite his boy’s looks and silent pleas to find something else to stick between his lips. (Some nights, he found other ways to occupy his mouth, often with Peter sprawled out across his desk and squeezing his thighs against Tony’s ears.)\

They worked around it in their own ways, though. Compromised. He knew Peter preferred the cigars over cigarettes, not as smelly or nauseating. He sometimes commented on the sweeter tobacco when it burned, sometimes smelling mint when they were mixed with the leaves, other times cinnamon.

Tony liked to make him guess. He liked it when his baby was in his lap, a mewling little mess as he fucked himself on Tony’s cock, while Tony watched and pretended to be unbothered. He chewed on the end of a cigar burning down in between his lips, a fruity flavor coating his mouth when he sucked the smoke in. The end glittered orange, fresh ash hissing with his breath.

Peter made a slight face amongst his moaning. His baby blue nails dug into Tony’s suit, freshly manicured and softly glinting under the low light of Tony’s private office. Tony knew he was smelling the burning of tobacco and paper, wasn’t able to taste that flavor underneath.

At least, not until Tony plucked the cigar from his lips with one hand and pulled Peter in for a kiss with the other, his thin black teddy crumpling in Tony’s fist. The kiss was as chaste as Tony could make it, giving himself room to breathe the smoke from his mouth into Peter’s. They had moved beyond that embarrassing coughing phase; his boy could handle a little second-hand smoke.

Peter breathed deep. He held it in, just as Tony taught him, chest tight as he ground down on the cock inside of him and fought a moan. A sharp, playful thrust had him releasing the smoke with a pleasured little sound.

“You like that one, baby?” Tony asked. Peter bent down to kiss him.

“It tastes like peaches,” he mumbled into Tony’s lips. “I want another hit.”


	17. Biting/Marking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love when ppl leave marks on each other *A*
> 
> **tags for this chapter:** jealous!tony, slight possessiveness, marking

“Oh, you are such a dear.”

The woman’s hand on Peter’s shoulder squeezed tight. Peter thought his arm would dislocate under her possessive grip, which smoothed across the black fabric of his blazer running along his arm. A social event for one of Tony’s business ventures, gaining a little PR while he was at it, and Peter had been asked to put up with it for the night.

For Tony, he’d be willing to do anything, even undergo obvious flirting from a woman older than Happy. She had been at it for a good twenty-odd minutes now, but the touching was new territory. Either she was getting bolder in her flirtations, thinking Peter’s politeness meant he reciprocated interest, or she was upping her game out of impatience.

Either way, Peter wasn’t enjoying it. However, she wasn’t giving him the chance to escape; he stepped back, she stepped forward. And with a gaggle of drama-hungry paparazzi standing at arm’s length in every direction, Peter couldn’t exactly tell her to just fuck off.

So he smiled and put up with it, trying to keep his responses as neutral as possible.

“I appreciate the compliment, ma’am,” he said, spotting a camera pointed in his direction from the corner of his eye. “I’m sure you could get more out of a conversation with Tony than you could with me. I can introduce you two, if you’d like.”

The woman (he couldn’t remember the name she gave him) laughed and came dangerously close to sloshing her chardonnay all over him. Peter took a half-step back that, thankfully, went unnoticed. Any amount of space he could get between them was enough.

“You’re on a first name basis with Tony Stark? Mark me impressed.” She reached for him again, and Peter tried not to grimace at the way she rubbed her hand on him. “And a little jealous. He and I are already in business together, but I’m certainly more interested in you. Not every day a young man of your _ stature _ comes through.”

The hand was stroking along his chest now, and fuck, Peter was pretty sure he heard a camera clicking. That’ll be one for Friday to rip from the internet before it’s seen. Maybe Tony will save it to laugh at later when they’re alone.

Peter figured such an unwanted gesture would warrant a few steps back. That would be okay, right? The press couldn’t eat him alive if he was trying to _ avoid _ a potential affair.

So he took the step, using gentle fingers to brush the woman’s touch off him.

“I’m here because _ Tony _asked me to be,” Peter said coolly, hoping that he was able to keep his tone as even and neutral as possible. Ears were everywhere, Tony had warned him. They’d be listening. “I’m not sure what interest you might have in my company if it’s not to get on his good side.”

That had been a mistake. She gave him a smile that made him want to shrink. Or throw up.

“I can think of _ several _ ways you might interest me, Peter. Why don’t we start with those lovely hands of yours.”

Okay, yeah, Peter was definitely going to throw up.

There was another hand on his shoulder, then. Peter tensed up, worried that maybe she had a husband or friend that wanted to join in, only to feel relief flood through him when warm, brown eyes met with his. The familiar cut of a goatee made him feel somewhat safer, as the man on his chest was ripped away like it had been burned.

Instead of that predatory smile, shock and embarrassment remained.

“O-Oh! Mr. Stark,” the woman started. She turned red while she pretended to pick something off of Peter’s blazer. The way Tony pulled Peter back was not at all subtle. “I didn’t see you, h-how-how are you?”

“I’m good. Great, actually,” Tony said. “Are you enjoying the party, maybe the wine? I took the liberty of showing your husband which brand and flavor it is, since I’ve seen you refill your glass quite a few times tonight.”

Her cheeks were definitely burning red, but not as much as Peter’s were when Tony’s hand traveled up to his shoulder and pulled the collar of his white shirt to the side. It was just enough to flash the dark purple hickey that had been sucked into Peter’s skin earlier that day, only having darkened over the night.

The skin was sucked sore and Peter hissed when Tony pressed down against it.

“You’ll have to excuse my rudeness, Mrs. Turner, I have something important I need to speak to my _ intern _ about,” he said, and the mark was covered up before a word could be uttered about it. By the look on her face, she absolutely understood the implications behind the way Tony said _ intern _. “Have another glass of wine, maybe chilled this time.”

Whatever her response was, Tony didn’t stay to hear it or give Peter the chance. With his hand still on Peter’s shoulder, he turned away and dragged Peter through the crowd with him. They parted almost subconsciously for him, a few eyes watching how easily Tony maneuvered them between bodies. Peter was just thankful to get away from Turner and her lack of boundaries.

Tony was already muttering about cutting ties with her husband’s facility and reaching out their competitor.

Peter just laughed and put his arm around Tony’s waist. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Of course.” Tony pressed a gentle kiss to his temple and dragged him past the bar.

There was an untouched tumbler of whiskey there, probably placed when the bartender saw Tony coming. Instead of stopping there like Peter had expected him to, perched against the counter and people-watching while they waited for Happy, Tony pulled him right past the decorated bar and towards a small corridor leading away from the party.

Had Tony already called for their car, deciding to make a discreet getaway through the back instead of fighting through the army of photographers up front? It wouldn’t be the first time; the Christmas charity gala had been as close to an actual riot as Peter had ever wanted to get.

But, no. Once they were out of sight, Tony shoved Peter into the wall and trapped him there with his arms. Peter held his breath, waiting, wondering what Tony was going to do.

Tony reached down and pulled his shirt to the side so he could see that dark hickey again, and Peter moaned when he felt lips and tongue on the mark. He put a hand over his mouth and glanced at the part of the hallway they had just come from. They could still hear the music playing, but Peter doubted it would be loud enough to muffle his voice if they got too loud.

Not that Tony seemed preoccupied with anyone hearing them. He growled into Peter’s ear and nipped at the lobe. “Can’t stand watching anyone putting their hands on my boy,” he said, and Peter hissed at the sting of Tony taking his skin between his teeth. “Had to stop myself from ripping her arm off.”

“Kinda wished you did, Ton_yyy _.” Peter suffocated the moan growing in his throat as Tony slid his thigh between his legs. He couldn’t help himself from humping against it, cock stirring in his pants. He whined when Tony chuckled.

“Well, I’m going to make sure everyone knows not to touch you.”

He placed a hand at the column of Peter’s throat and ducked his head to kiss at the bared side. Peter wanted to drag his fingers through Tony’s hair, muss it up from where it had been perfectly styled back. His train of thought disappeared the second he felt Tony’s thigh press against his cock again. He was already half-hard from where he’d been rubbing himself against it. He brought his hand away from his mouth and used Tony’s shoulder to muffle his moans.

Tony’s lips latched onto his skin and he went to work. Peter knew the marks would be completely visible, each hickey darkening over the course of the night. By the time they left, they would be purple and glaring from his skin. Everyone would be able to see them.

Peter grinned with a moan, hidden against Tony’s blazer as he moved to suck yet another dark hickey underneath his jaw. He found he didn’t mind that idea at all.


	18. Blood Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, confession time: i love bloody sex. it's a ridiculous trope that would be SO nasty irl, but i adore it in fiction. couldn't resist adding it to the list for kinktober. yet another mafia!au bc i might be obsessed with it, lol.
> 
> **tags for this chapter:** implied peter/oc, sadistic!peter, mafia boss!tony, blood play, messy sex

Peter smelled of gunmetal and copper when he returned to Tony. That beautiful black suit he wore was soaked, dried blood flaking off of his waistcoat and smearing maroon on his neck. It was splashed across his cheek and in his hair, like he had drained it into a bucket and thrown it on himself. If Tony looked closely, he could see it line and darken in the crevices of Peter's fingers.

Then again, Tony had told him to make it messy. Peter’s hit had been one of Steve’s men, someone who had wormed their way into his family and spilled all of Tony’s strategic secrets to his boss before he was finally caught. Tony had taken quite the hit from him, losing hundreds of thousands in firearms. Peter hadn’t even had to ask; as soon as Tony was informed of who sold him out, Peter was given the job.

“Don’t even _think_ of coming back if he's not dead,” Tony had told him, furiously chewing on the end of a cigar. “I want evidence, too. Some form of proof he’s dead. Bring me his actual head, and I'll kill you for letting it bleed on my carpet.”

Oh, his love could be so finicky. But Peter knew the proof he had was more than sufficient: pictures of the man’s corpse, naked in bed, where Peter had lured him with big doe eyes and desperate, quivering pleas to “Save me from Stark! I’ll do _ anything _ to get away!”

Peter gave Tony excruciating detail on how he killed him, how he had leaned over the man in bed and held his clammy hands to the mattress. His throat had sprayed all over Peter when he had watched the life leave the man’s eyes. Peter hadn't moved from him just yet, staying on top of him just to watch his pupils dilate. Peter’s heart raced while watching the man slowly succumb to death.

And by the bulge in Tony’s pants, he enjoyed hearing him recount it just as much as Peter enjoyed telling it.

Tony welcomed him when Peter sank into his lap, thighs on each side, and leaned down to kiss him. He didn’t bother cleaning himself up or changing his clothes. There was something about him wearing the clothes he killed in that turned Tony on.

Now, his nails bit into Peter’s hips where he bounced in his lap, head thrown back as he rode Tony’s cock. His own hands were planted firmly on the back of the loveseat Tony was sat on, and moans poured out of his mouth with each drop of his hips. Peter's skin itched where the blood was dried. He didn’t care. The hungry, predatory look on Tony’s face at the sight of him made leaving it on worth it.

Tony reached up to drag him down into a filthy kiss. He growled into Peter’s lips, a sound that made him pick up his pace and all but slam himself down onto Tony’s thighs.

“Good boy,” Tony said, his voice low and dark. He sounded wrecked, even though it was _his_ cock inside of Peter. “Such a good boy, always, for me. Aren’t you, baby?”

There were flecks of dried blood on Tony’s hands and in his beard when he pulled away. Peter knew he wouldn’t care, not until they were in the bath later, and Peter would be washing them away while touching up Tony's sharp and pristine goatee.


	19. Filming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i straight-up almost forgot today's entry. i'm so tired, lmao. y'all are gonna be able to tell that i enjoyed writing this one. 
> 
> **tags for this chapter:** underage!peter at 16, peter/quentin beck but it's not the main pairing, blowjobs, attempted blackmail, filming, psuedo-incest

The bass of some shitty EDM song reverberated through Tony’s chest, vibrating around his heart, and his head spun and swam with a pleasant dizziness. He was drunk as hell, barely tasting the bitter tang of the cheap beer in his cup, and the low-lights had been replaced with a cheesy multi-colored disco ball was perched on top of the coffee table.

His friends were scattered amongst the crowd of people Tony barely even knew, or didn’t know at all, which left him to wander aimlessly around until he found a body to pull against his own. Maybe he’d crash on the couch and join the potheads passing around a joint, maybe get some time in on the next round of beer pong. After all, the three hundred dollars he had given his little step-brother ensured the phone lines wouldn’t reach their parents.

Not that they were really step-brothers; Howard had married the kid’s aunt, not his mother, so they were more like step-cousins, if anything. To Tony, Peter wasn't even family, just some brat that he was forced to live with until Tony graduated the following semester and was gone for good.

He tried not to think about it for now. Tonight was for drinking and letting go off his stress. He was going to get drunk, maybe get high, and have some fucking fun. Step-brother be damned.

Or, so he thought. The house was dark, but Tony was pretty sure he saw Peter slinking off to the master bedroom, where their parents normally slept. Why was he going in there? The last party, Peter had forgotten to lock the door and had to ask Steve to kick out a pair of horny teenagers who found his empty bedroom and decided to have some fun. Tony never heard the end of it, so why was he wandering around now, after all that?

Tony downed the rest of his drink and tossed his cup off to the side. The cleaning crew would be there first thing in the morning to clean up the mess. He felt no remorse while watching it roll across the carpet.

The master bedroom was illuminated only by the light from one of the lamps perched on the nightstand. Tony slipped inside the bedroom and frowned, brow pulling tight together. He had been so sure that he had seen Peter, or someone, slip in here. Did he have the wrong room?

A pair of hushed voices, one of them giggling and excited, proved him right. Tony had the right room, and the right culprit, by the sound of it.

Peter had made such a big deal about not wanting to be seen, heard, or even thought about during the night. Tony half-hoped that maybe he had managed to invite a friend over and was just performing some weird fucking science experiment with them in the bathtub. Tony shuddered to think about his last escapade when that geek Ned was invited over. Tony’s hair hadn’t completely recovered.

If Tony was being honest, he had completely expected to find something as weird as an octopus in their parents’ bathtub. He wouldn’t put it past the kid to be hiding something like that over the weekend. And he would have preferred it over what he actually saw: Quentin Beck, the only student that came close to ruining Tony’s chances of graduating valedictorian, perched on the closed lid of the toilet.

Between Quentin’s legs, spreading further thanks to the hands on his thighs, was Peter, grinning up at him from underneath a messy mop of brown hair.

Tony saw red. Peter was a year younger than both of them, and Quentin would be eighteen in a week. What the _ fuck _ was he doing messing around with Tony’s little brother?

“You ever done this before?” Quentin asked as Peter’s hands slowly traveled up the dark, worn denim of his jeans. Peter tilted his head. “Sucked dick, I mean.”

“I’ve had some practice,” Peter answered. His fingers played with the button above a very sizeable bulge in Quentin’s pants. “Why, worried you’re going to get some shitty head?”

“A little bit. I don’t see you get around as much Tony does.” Quentin ran a hand through Peter’s hair. His button was undone, zipper pulled down, and his bugle strained against the thin purple underwear beneath. “But maybe that’s a good thing. Not as nasty, huh?”

Peter’s eyes narrowed, and he palmed at Quentin not so gently. Quentin's hips jumping off the toilet seat. Peter’s grip punched a gasp out of him.

“Mention my brother again and I’ll leave you hard as a rock.”

Quentin could only nod as Peter followed his hand with a slow run of his tongue across the thin fabric. His fingers ended back up in Peter’s hair as he worked at leaving a wet spot over Quentin's cock. Quentin moaned with each stroke of Peter’s tongue.

It was when Peter’s fingers slipped between his skin and the waistband of his boxers that the proverbial lightbulb went off in Tony’s head. Sure, Quentin would probably not brag to their entire school about getting a blowjob from Tony’s little step-brother, but Tony could use that knowledge to his own advantage. Blackmail was the name of the game in the Stark household, after all. Maybe he could get the little shit to back off his wallet whenever he wanted to have fun.

Tony quietly fished his phone out of his pocket and opened up the camera. Recording started the moment Peter pulled Quentin’s dick and balls out, ducking his head to drag his tongue along the base, one of his other hands coming up to play with Quentin’s sac. His hips jumped again, a hiss spitting between his teeth. Quentin’s fingers tightened in Peter's hair.

Oh, this was going to be good, Tony thought. Instead of having to pay for his little brother’s silence, he could flash the video and mention their parents. _ How would poor, sweet May feel if she saw her nephew sucking cock at his age, huh?  
_

Tony could already see the mortified look on Peter’s face when Tony revealed his new ace.

Peter dragged his tongue up along the side, licked around the head, wrapped his fingers around the base to pull along the shaft and draw more moans from Quentin’s throat. His fingers seemed to tighten around Peter’s hair, pull him forward, urge him on to take more of his cock in his mouth. Peter took his time, though.

His lips wrapped around the head and he hollowed his cheeks. Quentin’s moan echoed in the bathroom. Tony shot a look over his shoulder, just in case anyone outside the bedroom might have heard them. When no one walked through, he turned back to the bathroom and his phone.

Peter had taken more of Quentin in now, bobbing his head. Drool dribbled out at the corner of his mouth and eased the way for his hand to stroke up and down where his mouth couldn’t reach.

The thought of Peter deepthroating, as fleeting and momentary as it was, made Tony’s dick twitch in his pants. He willed the thought away as quickly as it came, but the arousal lingered, much to his dismay. It was the act of seeing someone getting their dick sucked, he decided. It had nothing to do with Peter. He wasn’t turned on because the person sucking cock was his not-step-brother.

He reminded himself of that as he watched Peter pull off and let out a wet gasp for breath, moaning as he slapped the head against his tongue, sucked it back on. Quentin squirmed and threw his head back when Peter swallowed around him.

Tony hated how hard he was now.

It seemed to get better, when Peter’s eyes just so happened to slide towards him and catch him with his phone in his hands, halfway hidden by the doorway. Tony glanced up from the phone screen and met his eyes, face blank. He wanted to smirk and mumble _ gotcha! _ at him before running off. He already had enough to blackmail Peter with. Quit while you’re ahead, and all that shit, right?

Peter froze, eyes wide, lips still wrapped around Quentin’s shaft. Was he going to reveal Tony’s position, mention something to Quentin about it, jump up to his feet and chase him through the hallway to get his phone or bargain with him? Tony almost wanted him to. Maybe then he’d feel better about this idea now.

Peter did none of that. He blinked once then smiled the best he could around the shaft in his mouth. He kept his eyes on Tony as he took Quentin down until he gagged. It was a wet, gargled sound that sprung tears to Peter’s eyes and reddened his cheeks. More drool spilled down the shaft of Quentin’s dick, and Peter came up to suckle the tip while Quentin’s eyes clenched shut and he leaned back until his head hit the wall.

Whatever he said next, Tony heard none of it. He was too focused on his step-brother’s mouth and hands. Each stroke and movement demanded his attention. Fuck, this was getting out of control.

Peter came off of him with a quick breath, hand working hard while his tongue teased and swirled around the dark red head. Quentin was close, his breaths coming out harder and faster, and he pulled harder on Peter’s hair to get him to swallow him down again. Peter fought against his grip, eyes on Tony, as the last few strokes of his hand had Quentin shooting streaks of white across his face.

Tony bailed. He shoved his phone, still recording, into his back pocket and ducked out of the room before Quentin saw him. He intercepted two partiers from entering the bedroom, threatening to leak their credit card information if they so much as touched the doorknob. How he was going to keep anyone from seeing Quentin leave the bedroom with his brother in tow, he didn’t know.

He was thankful for the lack of light in the house; it made hiding the absolutely painful boner he had that much easier.

Tony pulled his phone out of his pocket and stopped the recording, unable to tear his eyes from the frozen frame of his brother’s hands on Quentin, drawing him from his underwear, with an absolutely hungry look in his eyes. He should delete it. It would be hard to explain to anyone if they used his phone and found it, or dangerous, in case they decided to spread it.

Against his better judgement, though, he didn’t touch the video. He closed it out, shoving his phone as deeply into his pocket as he could, and went straight for the newly-tapped beer keg in the backyard. Tony needed a drink.


	20. Exhibitionism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one gave me some trouble, and i'm still not 100% down w/ what i wrote. i was really feeling the whole mafia!au during this phase tho, lmao. 
> 
> **warnings for this chapter:** mafia!au, sadistic!peter, blowjobs, mentions of torture, exhibitionism, face-fucking, begging, daddy kink

Peter’s bottom lip jutted out in a little pout as he watched Tony try to interrogate their traitor. **Keyword:** try. The man wasn’t giving them any information, wouldn’t spill what secrets he had told the leader of the Hammer family, and was laughing at each and every word that Tony used against him. Tony was trying to refrain from torture or beatings because the man had been a close friend. He was being soft, and it made Peter sick.

It seemed his patience ran thin enough though. Tony turned to his men, bellowing out an order to leave or get shot for insubordination while another tied a gag around their traitor’s mouth. Peter watched them all slink away; Natasha gestured for Peter to follow her when she noticed he hadn’t moved from where he was perched on Tony’s desk, bare feet swinging and heels lightly tapping the dark wood.

Peter shook his head and waved her away. He knew what he was doing. He knew what Tony needed.

He watched Tony sink into the cushion of his couch, in front of where their traitor was knelt on the floor, and Tony rubbed his eyelids. “I really don’t want to rip off your fingernails,” he said with a heavy sigh, looking up at the man before him. “I will if I have to, in order to ensure my operations and family here aren’t at risk. But I will take no joy from it.”

Tony pushed his blazer to the side and touched the frame of his pistol gently. Peter figured he was thinking of ending it all, letting his frustrations out by unloading the magazine into him. He wouldn’t get anything that way, though.

Peter stood from the desk and poured Tony a drink, trying a sip of whiskey for himself and grimacing at the taste.

Tony accepted the glass with little argument, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that Peter hardly ever saw directed at him. He could count on one hand the times Tony had given him such a look, this time included. Peter wasn’t bothered, though. He knew his Daddy was going through a tough time, that he was feeling all kinds of hurt and betrayed. But he also knew how to remind Tony he was loved and retained loyalty from his family.

A drink was the best way to start.

“I thought I told everyone to leave,” Tony said slowly. His tone was even but strained. His jaw clenched when he swallowed a long sip of bourbon.

Peter hummed in response, stepping over to his right side and perching as prettily as he could on the cushion. “You did, but I don’t think leaving you alone with _ him _ was a good idea, Daddy. I was worried you might kill him without getting anything useful.”

Peter’s eyes flicked down to where Tony was still touching his pistol. Almost ashamed, Tony pulled his hand away and took a sip. “I appreciate the thought, baby, but I need to be alone. I might shoot _myself_, at this point.”

“I want to help you relax, Daddy. Clear your head.”

Peter smirked and leaned forward, both hands on Tony’s thigh. He tilted his head, a move he knew would reel in Tony’s attention. He moved closer on his knees and moved one hand to cup Tony’s crotch. Tony seemed unbothered by his touch, not even letting his eyes move to their hostage, but he did put a hand to Peter’s jaw and squeeze. His cheeks dimpled and lips pursed under Tony’s grip.

“I don’t feel like fucking you right now,” Tony said through clenched teeth. Peter was one wrong word from being kicked out, or worse.

Too bad for Tony the boy knew him like the back of his perfectly-moisturized and manicured hand.

When Tony’s grip loosened, Peter grabbed it and pressed a small kiss to his palm. “You wouldn’t have to do a thing for me, Daddy,” he purred and promised, leaning forward to press another to the ball of his palm, then Tony’s wrist. “I’m doing this for you, Daddy, not for me. Will you please let me help you?”

Tony watched Peter kiss his wrist again before sighing and relenting to his boy’s begging. He downed the rest of his glass and held it out to Peter.

“Get Daddy a refill, then,” he said, and some of the tension had left his voice. Peter giggled and did as asked, making sure he topped the drink off a little more than necessary.

Once he was settled with his drink, Tony watched Peter settle down onto the floor between his spread legs, hands rubbing up and down slowly on Tony’s thighs. Peter chewed on his lip and squirmed with his heels digging into his ass. Tony leaned back and gestured vaguely with his hands. He wasn’t going to take charge, just like Peter said he wouldn’t.

Peter moved up and reached for Tony’s belt, undoing the clasp loudly and pulling them down just enough to reveal the thick, dark patch of hair at the base of his cock. It was already growing hard, and Peter leaned forward to kiss his stomach before pulling him free of his underwear and pants, and immediately taking the head between his lips.

The reaction Peter wanted was instant: Tony reclining into the seat, his face relaxed, as Peter worked him with his tongue, lips, and fingers until he was hard. The traitor behind him made some kind of noise from behind his gag. Peter didn’t let his thoughts linger on what the man might have wanted to say, and from the hungry look he was receiving, neither did Tony. His only focus was helping his Daddy relieve stress, and no weak-willed snitch was going to keep him from doing so.

He bobbed his head and let his tongue drag along the underside as he dove down, took Tony halfway in, pulled back just to take him down again. Tony hissed, fingers threading through Peter’s hair. Peter moaned around him, a wordless appraisal for Tony’s reaction. He let his hand work where his mouth hadn’t yet reached, but the grip Tony had on his hair said that he had other plans.

Peter let himself be pulled off of Tony’s cock, drool wetting and dripping from his lips as Tony admired his face. “My sweet boy, always thinking of me,” he muttered, a thumb swiping away some of the spit still sticking to his mouth. “Should I show our guest here how easily I tear you apart? Does he remember what kind of power I have in here, especially over you?”

Peter swallowed, salivating at the anticipation of what Tony wanted to do to him. He nodded with a weak little whine.

“Use me, Daddy,” Peter begged, hand working furiously over the head of Tony’s cock. “I’m yours, do whatever you want to me. I’m yours, only yours, _please_, Daddy.” He nuzzled into Tony’s thigh, eyes shining and reverent from underneath a thick fan of dark brown lashes.

Tony’s lips quirked upwards, and he let Peter sink back down onto him, lips stretched perfectly pink around his shaft. He didn’t even gag when Tony pulled him further down until the tip bumped the back of Peter’s throat and broke through the tight ring. Peter whined around him, wet and gurgling, and he pushed and swallowed until his nose was buried in black hair.

He was pulled off, and then held in place while Tony’s cock was pushed back into his throat in slow, deep thrusts. Peter whined around him, wet noises erupting from his throat each time it was breached. Saliva dribbled down Tony’s cock with each movement of his hips. His fingers only seemed to tighten in Peter’s hair with each passing moment.

The man behind them, still kneeling and gagged, still watching, made a noise and began squirming. Tony stilled his hips and pulled Peter all the way down again, choking him. Peter took it with a small, complaining whine. Tears burned in his eyes and slipped down his cheeks. Tony leaned over him, pressing Peter’s nose harder into his stomach.

“Shut your mouth,” he ordered, speaking slowly so each word hit its mark. “I’ll pay attention to you when I’m done with him.”

A sound akin to giggling left Peter’s throat, even with the cock filling it. He pulled off Tony with a wet gasp and spit dripping from his lips. His chin and neck were wet, pink gloss smeared across his face. He smiled and wrapped his fingers back around Tony’s soaked shaft to give it a few pulls.

“I’ll get you off, Daddy,” he promised. He pressed the head of Tony’s cock to his cheek and put an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss to the side of it. “But I want to see you get real mean with him afterwards. Can’t be so _ soft _ with everyone, or I’ll get jealous.”

Tony groaned as Peter took him back into his mouth. He glanced up behind him and smirked. “Whatever you want, baby. If you stop again, though, I’ll tie you up next.”


	21. Sounding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've always wanted to write a sounding fic. *A* 
> 
> **warnings for this chapter:** mentions of kink negotiation and research, slightly drunk peter, sounding, handjobs

They had talked about it extensively, for weeks, sitting together in front of projected holograms doing research on procedures and safety before even ordering the equipment. Tony had insisted they do so, refusing to even think about it until Peter promised him they would go over everything together. He would also be lying if he said that he hadn’t enjoyed getting Peter off to one of the instructional videos; the poor boy’s excitement got the better of him.

But now, they had arrived on the night they agreed upon, and Tony found himself looking forward to retiring to bed. Everything was ready, and excitement had Tony’s blood rushing beneath his skin.

Peter’s nerves had him shaking; he wanted it, trusted Tony with it, but it was new territory. With sober consent and reassurance that he wanted it but needed a little something for his nerves, Tony let him take a few drinks from the bourbon decanter at his bar. The boy’s top lip curled in disgust with every sip, but he downed a glass and then poured another, for good measure. It sat on the nightstand while he and Tony undressed.

They kissed slowly, lazily, the alcohol making Peter’s skin hot and his face flush a pretty shade of pink. He knelt in between Tony’s spread thighs and let himself be stroked and caressed. His cock was already half-hard and leaking by the time Tony eased him to lean back against his chest and relax.

Tony coaxed the tumbler to Peter’s lips and encouraged another sip. The taste had weakened on his tongue, and while the alcohol wasn’t as sharp this time around, he still made a face and stuck his tongue out. Tony chuckled and set the glass back before retrieving the brand new bottle of lube and their equipment.

“Color?” he asked softly, pressing a kiss to Peter’s temple.

“Green,” Peter answered immediately, his words beginning to slur from the alcohol. Tony decided to not give him more unless asked, and even then to limit it. He wanted Peter relaxed but lucid. “My safe word is ‘infinity,’ and if I can’t speak or forget my words, I pinch your thigh twice.”

Tony laughed. “You wanna recite the phone book while you’re at it, Einstein?”

“I want you to hurry up, old man. I’m already starting to grow my own grays.”

Tony leaned down to nip his neck, smiling at the drunk little giggle it earned him. “Lie back and relax, baby.”

He rubbed up and down Peter’s arms as the boy sunk into his chest, all tension leaving him in a deep breath. Tony continued kissing his neck and lazily stroking his cock. Peter moaned quietly, and aside from the aborted little movements of his hips following Tony’s strokes, he stayed still against him. When Tony was convinced that he was relaxed enough, he reached for the lube and the sleek little black box they had received a few days ago.

Tony lifted the box’s cover, lips pressed against the soft skin behind Peter’s ear. “We’re just gonna use the first one, okay? Any time you want out, just say so. I don’t want you to force yourself.”

Peter chewed his lip and nodded, bourbon strong on his breath when Tony tilted his head back to kiss him. He poured lube into his hand and twisted it around the head of Peter’s cock, other hand holding it at the base to keep it steady. Peter’s hands were in Tony’s hair and fingers dug into the meat of Tony’s thigh. He encouraged Peter to take another sip before he continued.

His ears were open for a safe word when he reached into the box and pulled out a long, thin gold rod. It was sleek and straight, no fancy design or twist to it save for a crimson ball at one end. A simple beginner’s rod. It was beautiful in its own way, and Peter had enthusiastically agreed with him that it should be their first.

Tony used more lube on the tip of Peter’s cock, then circled around with the tip of the rod. Peter gasped at the touch of cool metal against his dark, aroused skin, toes curling preemptively and nails biting into Tony’s leg. He whimpered quietly as the rod circled round and round, wetting itself in the excess lubrication.

Tony asked for his color and got back a very breathless _green_.

He lined up the rod with Peter's slit, pressed kisses to the back of his neck, and slowly, slowly pushed it in.

Peter’s reaction was immediate. He stayed still for the most part, but every muscle in his legs and stomach went tight, a gasp leaving him as though it had been punched from him. He let out a high whimper when Tony pushed more of it inside him, and the hand at his thigh found itself twisted in the bed sheets. (Tony was quietly thankful; he could feel the bruises already forming in the shape of Peter’s long, slender fingers.)

Tony went stock still when Peter stammered out a breathless, “Yellow, yellow, fuck.”

He ran a hand up and down Peter’s arm, taking stock of his taut muscles and heaving chest. His head was back against Tony’s shoulder with his eyes closed. His lips were parted, kissed and bitten red.

“Do you want to stop?” Tony asked, and Peter shook his head.

“No, I just,” he paused to swallow, “I need a second. It’s… It’s so much.”

Tony chuckled. “Is it good?”

“_Yes_.” Peter’s eyes slowly slid open, and Tony could see how far his pupils had blown. “It’s so good, _ god_, thank you. Thank you, thank you, Tony.”

He turned and pulled Tony in for a kiss, whimpering as the shift of his hips moved the rod around. Tony pushed him back into place with gentle hands and pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead when they separated. “Are you good to keep going, baby?”

Peter nodded, hands returning to the sheets beneath him. He relaxed back against him and Tony resumed stroking him. A little extra lube never hurt, and Peter certainly seemed to agree as Tony worked it around the bit of the rod still protruding out. Tony asked for his color again, waited for an enthusiastic (almost pleading) reply before he began pushing the rod down.

The moan that ripped from Peter’s throat was no less pleased than the first time, but there was less surprise at the sensation, less shock. His fingers dug into the duvet, but his eyes weren’t screwed shut this time. Peter kept his eyes glued on the movement of Tony’s fingers easing the rod further and further down into him. His thighs shook the more the rod slipped in, until it finally stopped, the crimson bead at the top nestled against the head.

Peter gasped, moaned, and bucked his hips. Tony put one hand on them to still his movements, the other stroking his length. He stroked along the underside of it, breath hitching when he felt the stiffness tucked away inside. He dragged his fingers along it.

“Holy shit, Pete,” Tony groaned.

His own arousal was trapped between Peter’s back and his stomach, but the telltale wetness of precum dribbling between them was there, seeping into the sheets. He focused away from his aching cock and back to Peter’s, the head now a dark red with the need to come. Each exhalation shook from Peter’s body.

Another gentle squeeze had Peter throwing his head back. “Tell me how it feels, baby. How does it feel having that inside you?”

“It’s _ insane_,” Peter whined, Tony kissed the shell of his ear with a little chuckle. “God, I’m so _ full_, but it’s different. It’s… fuck!”

The way Peter squirmed meant he was rubbing against Tony’s cock, and that rod moved around in him, rubbing against his walls in a way he wasn’t used to. He keened, moaning Tony’s name, reaching for him. Tony took his hand, kissed it, jerked Peter’s cock faster, and watched his hips jump from the mattress.

“Oh, oh my God, Tony. I’m so close!”

Peter’s pretty little eyes clenched shut and he threw his head back, mouth agape. The noises Tony drew from him were bliss, his hand working hard and fast. His eyes were everywhere; he couldn’t choose which part of Peter to focus on. He kissed Peter’s cheek and murmured encouragement to him.

“Wanna see you come, baby. Wanna see you push your cum out around the rod in you,” Tony growled. He reached down to play with Peter’s balls, already drawn so tight to his body. Peter wailed, begging, crying. There were tears spilling down his cheeks. “So pretty for me, baby, so good. You’re absolutely perfect, Peter.”

Peter’s breath quickened, and after one breath, then another, his body went rigid, and he was coming. Tony stroked him through it, watching his spunk ooze from around the tip of the rod. It dripped down over Tony’s fingers, and he held Peter’s still hard cock in his hand as it spilled out. Peter’s thighs shook from the force of his orgasm. More tears ran down his face when he blinked.

He whined and grabbed at Tony’s wrist, body going taut and sobbing as Tony pulled the rod out slowly; Peter’s nerves were on fire, his senses dialed past their usual sensitivity. Tony didn’t want to leave the rod in him until everything dried up. He shushed and smoothed his hand over Peter’s hot skin, whispered sweet words into his ear.

The sounding rod came free with a final sob from Peter, who sunk completely against Tony’s chest when the pain was gone. Tony tossed the rod aside, deciding they could clean up later, and turned Peter’s face towards his so he could more easily kiss him. Peter reciprocated, all lazy movements and little content moans. He was smiling when Tony pulled back to breathe.

Tony brushed hair from his forehead and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Hey, handsome. You okay?”

“Mmhm.” Peter nodded, a sleepy little grin spreading across his face. “That was amazing. Thank you.”

“Thank _ you _ for being so open with me, baby,” Tony responded, and he bent his head to kiss Peter’s shoulder. “You did so well.”

Peter shifted in Tony’s lap. He frowned when he felt Tony’s cock against the small of his back, and his lust-glazed eyes looked down towards Tony’s hips. He read that look and gave Peter a small little nudge, saying, “Don’t worry about me, kid. You’ve done enough for tonight.”

Peter scoffed, halfway twisting in Tony’s lap with a small smirk. “I’m going to worry about it. No sense in letting me come tonight and not you.” His hands were shaking still when he cupped Tony’s cheeks and brought him into a breathless kiss. “Now, let me show my appreciation for you, Tony.”


	22. Stockings/Socks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings for this chapter:** intercrural sex, stockings kink

Peter was a sight to behold, if Tony had any say in the matter. He was gorgeous, whether he was fresh from a shower with suds still running down his neck, or when he was bloody and blue from a fight that proved to be a challenge. Tony appreciated every detail of the boy’s features, especially when he could see every dip and curve of his body in his combat suit.

But Tony had to admit, his favorite sight was when the boy was splayed out across his mattress, hair a sweat-damp halo above his head, with Tony between his legs. Legs that were finely sculpted from years of combat and acrobatics, legs that trembled and tensed whenever Tony touched him.

Legs that were unapologetically dotted with bite marks and hickeys, all wrapped up in pretty pink nylon, because the second Tony discovered how much Peter loved wearing stockings and frilly thigh-highs, Tony bought him a collection that would make any school girl jealous.

Peter had blanched white when Tony discovered his secret, then burned red the second Tony got down on his knees for him. God, he had no idea what he was doing to Tony, intentionally or not. Even now, with Tony fucking him and running his hands up those gorgeous legs, Peter didn’t know how crazy the sight of him in nothing but his stockings made him.

Tony pulled Peter further onto his cock, fingers fitting perfectly against the jutting hip bones, and Peter’s eyes rolled back on a moan. His hands fisted the sheets above his head. He moved his hips against Tony’s, picking up on the quick and hard rhythm, and failing to keep up when Tony’s hands curled around his leaking cock. He moaned Tony’s name so sweetly, begging for release, teeth pinching his bottom lip.

Tony could never deny him, not when he looked like this. He gave his baby permission, begged him to come, wanted to see him fall apart and give in to his pleasure. And Peter did, with his eyes rolling back and hips stuttering. He painted his own stomach and Tony’s fingers white, cock drooling when Tony gave it a final squeeze and released it.

He pulled out of Peter. His cock was red, achingly hard, and close to climax after feeling Peter’s hole clench around him with his orgasm. He could feel his own release waning now that he had retreated from Peter’s body, which earned him a pathetic, questioning whine. Tony hushed him before grabbing Peter’s calves and lifting them up so he could press his thighs together and slip his cock between them.

The noise that escaped Peter’s throat had his cock twitching between them, and he slowly thrust forward. The slide of his wet cock along the soft nylon pulled a moan from Tony’s throat, hips stuttering against the backs of Peter’s plush thighs. Peter’s fingers ghosted over the tip of his cock, closing around it as he pulled back and thrust forward again. He gave a little whimper and clenched his thighs tighter around him.

Tony didn’t last much longer after that. He thrust slowly between Peter’s thighs until his orgasm hit him, a gasp and hiss of breath as his cum spurted over Peter’s hips and softening cock. Peter threw his head back, fingers still working furiously over Tony, and moaned. He pressed a kiss to Peter’s ankle before letting his legs fall back open on each side, and he smeared a drop of his cum off the head and onto the hem of Peter’s right stocking.

Once the euphoria had faded, both men coming back to themselves, Peter sat up, kissed Tony, and then frowned down at his legs and stomach. He then pointed that frown right at Tony.

“That’s not coming out,” he complained, thumb brushing the stain of cum and lube between his legs. “_Tony_.”

Tony laughed and shushed him with a kiss. “I’ll buy you as many as you want to replace them, whatever you want. All you need to do is ask.”

He cupped Peter’s face and continued to kiss him, swallowing down an amused little laugh.


	23. Service

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing explicit today. a little dive into a fic concept i really want to flesh out later, though.
> 
> no real warnings for this chapter.

If there was a personal account of having sex with Tony Stark, Peter had heard or read it all by now. As the billionaire’s “newest boy toy,” he apparently had a sign painted on his forehead that begged every man and woman in New York to recount their personal tales of crawling into Tony Stark’s bed. He had heard every description of every position his lover had been in with other people, and quite frankly, he was sick of hearing about it.

They hadn’t known him, not the _ real _ Tony Stark. Peter had the privilege of seeing him for who he really was, and hearing from others about how selfish he was in his own pleasure had a fire burning in his throat. He hoped they could see the annoyance in his smile.

Thankfully, the ride home was much more relaxed. As soon as the car doors were shut, the windows darkened, and Peter climbed into Tony’s lap to capture his lips in a desperate, wet kiss. Mentally, he apologized to Happy for having to listen to them make out like sloppy teenagers in the back seat. But he couldn’t help himself; listening to Tony’s past flings were starting to get to him.

Maybe he was a little possessive in the way he clung to Tony’s black suit jacket, wrinkling the material in his hands and nearly tearing it. Maybe he bit his lip a little too hard when he kissed Tony. Not that Tony seemed to mind, anyways.

They were closer to the penthouse than Peter remembered, because suddenly Happy was stopping the care and making a quip about having to disinfect his back seat. His comment about seat belts went completely unheard by Peter as he slipped off Tony’s thighs to let him open the door and climb out, then hold it for him.

Peter was surprised the wheels of the car didn’t squeal with how quickly Happy tore out of the driveway.

Tony held the door open for him when they walked inside, following him with a hand slowly slipping down his back. Just as it reached the swell of his ass, Peter snapped out a quick, “Stop.” Tony’s hand tore from him like it had been burned.

Peter shrugged off his blazer, already working on the absolutely infuriating knot around his neck. How had Tony tied it earlier? God, what Peter wouldn’t give to have at least one clip-on tie so that he could just throw it off rather than struggle with it. He gave up, instead choosing to sit down on Tony’s leather couch and lean back, legs splayed open and head cocked, looking at Tony.

His sweet, handsome Tony, who looked confused (and rather offended) at why he had been ordered to stop touching Peter. Peter couldn’t blame him; nothing said “mixed signals” like throwing yourself into an older man’s lap and then snapping at him the moment you got home.

But Peter had a plan. He couldn’t let himself get distracted.

“Take off your blazer and tie, Tony. Shoes, too,” he said, eyes boring into Tony’s as he watched the man’s face ease into recognition. Tony let out a heavy breath, and with it the tension in his face and shoulders. They eased down away from his ears, the lines of his face smoothing. Relaxing, Peter thought.

He wouldn’t have control tonight. There was relief for him, in that realization.

Tony shed his coat and approached the couch to drape it over the back. His eyes never left Peter’s, even when he undid his own tie and used the couch to keep his balance while shucking his shoes off. Peter watched him with a smile, pleased to see him so eager to follow orders. There was the temptation to palm at himself while watching. Peter ignored it.

Two steps towards Peter were made before he said, “No, hands and knees. You know the rules, Tony.”

Of course he did, but Peter supposed he could forgive him this little slip-up. Just this once.

Tony wordlessly obeyed, sinking to his knees and crawling slowly to the space between Peter’s legs. Peter watched the shift of his hips, arch of his back, the way he looked up at Peter so sweetly from beneath his lashes. Tony took his place between Peter’s legs and let his lips fall apart. His hands were on Peter’s thighs, trailing up, but he knew his place. He didn’t so much as brush a fingertip against the growing bulge in Peter’s pants without permission.

God, he was a dream. Peter wanted to kiss this man stupid.

His hands curled in Tony’s hair, watching his eyes slowly slip shut. Tony leaned into his touch.

“I’ve heard a few unsavory stories about you tonight, Tony,” Peter said. Tony’s eyes opened again, surprise and worry shining in them, but Peter shushed him and leaned forward to cup Tony’s face. “Shh, it’s okay. I don’t believe a word of it. I know you, Tony. You’re nothing like what they say.”

Tony’s eyes shut again when he leaned forward to kiss Tony’s forehead and the bridge of his nose; Tony’s breath shuddered under Peter’s lips.

“Show me how wrong they are,” he ordered, and kissed Tony’s forehead again. “Prove them all wrong, Tony.”

Those brown eyes darkened, pupils blown from arousal and glazed over in a way that had Peter’s blood rushing in his ears. Tony’s hands were warm through the fabric of his slacks, and when they slipped under Peter’s thighs and pulled them up and over Tony’s shoulders, knocking Peter back against the couch, Peter’s own breath hitched.

“Yes, sir,” Tony answered before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Peter’s left thigh.


	24. Body Swap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been wanting to write smth like this for ages.
> 
> **warnings for this chapter:** body swapping, masturbation, guilty!tony, equally guilty!peter

Stephen Strange had fucked up. Not royally, at least. He had promised that the effects wouldn’t last longer than maybe twenty-four hours, give or take. It had happened before with some of his students, and they had returned to their own bodies with no ill side-effects. So Tony had nothing to be worried about, right?

Right. Even if waking up in the body of his young mentee, all his senses dialed up to eleven, had been a little, well, _ overwhelming_ to say the least. Peter had reassured him that yes, it was exactly what he felt all the time, and that Tony would be okay, even if he could hear every little click and whir of his own suit on his own body, with his protege's eyes looking out at him.

Peter had some of his own things to get used to from within Tony’s body. Everything felt muffled to him. “Like I’ve got cotton stuffed in my ears,” he told Tony, that goofy grin not quite fitting his face. It looked better and more natural on Peter. “If my body’s too much, I’m sorry. I used to hold myself up in my room like I was having a migraine for the first few weeks after the bite. At least, until I got used to it. Maybe you should do the same?”

Tony considered it, but brushed the advice aside at first. His suit had taken considerable damage after his and Peter’s awkward transformations, what with Peter’s inexperience in it, and he wanted to set to repairing it as soon as possible. Ten minutes of working in the shop gave him the absolute worst headache of his life; combined with the sharp smell of oil, it became too much for him to handle in his new body.

He took Peter’s advice, rubbing at his pounding temples and downing several painkillers the first chance he got. He could still taste the bitterness of them hitting his tongue when he opened the door to his own room, dimmed the lights, and ordered Friday to lock it behind him. Just like a migraine, he thought.

Tony ordered Friday to inform the others of his status if they asked after him, specifically that they all leave him alone until he returned to normal. Did Peter deal with this every single day? It was torture. Tony made a mental note to look into making a safety room for Peter in the near future, in case literally _ everything _ became too much, and he didn’t want to be bothered in his own room. Something hidden with insulated walls so that he could soundproof outside noise and be at peace when he needed it.

For now, it was Tony who didn’t want to be bothered. He climbed up into his bed, stopping to drag his fingers slowly and methodically across the sheets of his bed. On top of his pounding headache, now he had to be upset because his newly-tuned senses were going to ruin his bed sheets for him. They would never feel this soft to him ever again.

He finally stretched out across his bed and pulled the covers over his shoulders and head. They were just as soft and comfortable as the sheets underneath him. He’d never be so comfortable again in his life.

The combination of dimmed lights and muffled sound lulled him into dozing off. Tony let his eyes close, body growing lax until he sunk into the mattress and into a short sleep. There was still movement within the tower when he came back to himself, and Friday (quietly, thankfully) informed him that he was still within Peter’s body and that he had slept for nearly four hours.

Tony didn’t want to admit to himself that it was the most sleep he’d gotten this week, so he didn’t, instead nuzzling into his pillow and making a deal with himself to get out of bed in five minutes, maybe twenty. He settled back in for a little bit of time, adjusting his position on the mattress and—

_Oh_.

That was definitely not unusual, but Tony still felt like the wind had been knocked out of him when he shifted his hips at just the right angle to discover that even though he was an old man at heart, the body he occupied still ran like a teenager’s. Whatever dazed dreams he had during his nap, Tony couldn’t recall any of them being this exciting.

The erection he was sporting argued that. There was a familiar heat running through his veins, one he barely felt in his own body these days, but _magnified_. It felt ten times stronger, and he was ten times more responsive, as another involuntary rut of his hips soothed the ache between his thighs.

Between _Peter’s _ thighs, he thought. Fuck, this was not supposed to happen. He was in the body of the boy he had mentored since he was _ fifteen _.

But Peter’s body didn’t seem to care. If anything, each move only seemed to exacerbate the arousal, make it worse, and the knowledge of exactly how hard and large he was made Tony’s head spin. The brush of the sheets on his body were of no help, either. Each time he moved, he felt them caress his skin, and with each caress, another pulse of arousal shooting through him. He considered a cold shower but then decided that the feeling of freezing water pouring over him wouldn’t be worth it.

Tony buried his face into the mattress and tried not to groan too loudly. He could ignore it, pretend it wasn’t there and try to go back to sleep. He could also brave the cold shower and force it away.

Tony had never really been known for making the best decisions. He had a reputation, after all.

His impatience and demanding erection, leaking now into the spandex of Peter's combat suit, eventually won over. He hated every second of it, but there was no way he would get back to sleep otherwise.

Tony clenched his eyes shut, burying his face in his pillow when he reached down and palmed himself through Peter’s suit. He gasped in a sadistic mix of pleasure and relief before biting his tongue. That voice wasn’t his, that little pleased moan as his fingers skimmed over the swell of the shaft straining against his clothing. He couldn’t help it, but he let himself moan again when he groped at himself (at _ Peter_) with a little more purpose.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned and rutted up into his palm. When Peter said his senses were all dialed up to eleven, he wasn’t joking. Tony could all but feel the blood rushing through his cock (Peter’s cock, he reminded himself), heat sparking at the end of every nerve and curling his toes.

He could do this, he thought, twisting his fingers around the head pressing painfully hard against the stretchy fabric of the suit. He wouldn’t see anything, wouldn’t strip and stare at the lithe and finely-muscled body of his student. Tony told himself these things over and over as he groped and fondled himself. Heat rolled off him in waves. He kicked the sheets away, rolled on his back, and planted his feet into the mattress to buck against his own hand.

Another moan came from him, and he drank in the sound of the voice he was using. God, it was gorgeous. Everything about the kid was gorgeous, and it took the last remaining iota of self-control he had not to rip the suit off of himself and fuck his fist properly.

Even with his sloppy handiwork through Peter’s suit, Tony’s orgasm hit him so unexpectedly that it winded him, left him panting and out of breath against the mattress as he felt the inside of the suit growing wet around his cock. He blinked through a mist of stars that took over his vision and his legs shook. Tony was pretty sure he would fall to the floor if he tried to stand up and make his way to the adjoining bathroom.

Tony ran his fingers through the mask-tangled curls on top of his head and felt the guilt immediately hit him, dousing each flame on his nerves and sinking low in his gut. He shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t his body, or even his hands, and it certainly wasn’t his business.

Now he had this mess to deal with. Tony wasted a good amount of time debating whether or not he should change out of the kid’s suit and put something else on. He finally came to the conclusion that he could manage it so long as he kept his sights above the mattress. The kid’s dignity would be spared when they eventually returned to their bodies, and Tony crawled back underneath the blankets.

He cursed to himself when he felt his cock give another interested twitch the second the covers were pulled over his face. No, there was not going to be a round two, _ good night_.

Tony awoke the next morning with yet another wet spot in his underwear, and he groaned into his pillow at the realization. Had he come in his sleep, spilling himself inside of Peter’s underwear like a fourteen-year-old? God, the kid would never let him live it down.

Or so he thought, until he opened his eyes and stared at his own hand lying on the mattress, heard his own voice when he made his discontented noise, and felt his own stubble when he reached up to touch his face and double-check that he wasn’t still in Peter’s body. That was definitely his goatee underneath his fingers, and definitely his legs when he ripped the sheets off.

Tony didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about Peter touching himself in Tony’s body, shoving his hands down his pants and getting a good look at Tony’s cock. Maybe he had had a dream and shot his spend into his underwear; it wouldn’t have been unusual for someone of Peter’s age.

All thoughts preserving Peter’s conscience disappeared that morning when the boy emerged from Tony’s room and refused to meet his eyes.


	25. Lingerie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boys in lingerie is the hottest fucking thing ever. just fyi
> 
> **warnings for this chapter:** lingerie, daddy kink, teasing

God, Peter was exquisite. Tony couldn’t help but repeat the word over and over again in his head, his mouth too preoccupied with sucking and abusing a pert, reddened nipple through a veil of baby blue. The teddy dress soaked his saliva up, a wet spot that darkened over Peter’s chest, mirroring the one across from it underneath the teasing roll of Tony’s fingers.

Beneath him, head thrown back and body writhing, Peter moaned. His sweet, swollen lips were parted and open as little sounds of pleasure poured from them. They were wet from Tony’s kisses, kissed and nipped red and puffy.

Tony wanted him taken apart slowly, his fingers, lips, and tongue memorizing every beautiful, perfect inch of Peter’s body. He couldn’t have imagined a better present than Peter wrapped all pretty in blue and already prepped, just waiting for Tony to flip him over and use him as promised during dinner.

Tony, despite his earlier excitement, found that he could definitely wait to do so. His body's responses, the way his voice hitched and cracked on a curse when Tony finally gave a gentle stroke to the cock straining in his panties, and the blush growing darker and darker across Peter’s cheeks and neck granted him newfound patience. He didn’t want to do more, not when he could unravel his boy slowly and deliciously.

Peter’s chest heaved on a heavy gasp, breath caught in his throat when Tony pinched a bit of skin between his teeth. His fingers tightened around the back of Tony’s neck.

“Daddy,” he moaned when Tony’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of periwinkle lace, tracing a vein along the shaft of Peter’s cock. He smothered the whining little moan with a kiss and lapped at Peter’s lips with his tongue.

“Taking my time, sweet boy,” Tony mumbled into his skin. He left a trail of gentle kisses down the side of Peter’s neck. “You put so much work into looking pretty, I don’t want that effort going to waste.”

Tony’s hand was warm when it cupped Peter’s thigh, bringing the boy’s leg up and around his hip. The lace of his stocking pulled against a garter belt and strained the thin material across his skin.

He’d spend the rest of the night until the morning picking Peter apart, if the boy would let him. He’d cover every inch of him with his lips, teeth, and tongue, but the little thrusts of Peter’s hips egged him on.

Another night, Tony supposed. Maybe he’d have Peter wear gold and crimson. Oh, how beautiful his boy would look, splayed out across the mattress in his colors. He could see it now, mouth watering at the sight. To quell the fire in his gut, he bent down and sank his teeth into the meat of Peter’s chest.

Tony couldn’t get distracted now. He had a feast laid out in front of him, and by the frown on Peter’s kiss-swollen lips, his patience was running paper-thin.

His lips pressed to the spot where his teeth had bitten through (and torn) the thin strands of lace. “Easy, baby, I’ll give you what you want. You just lie back and keep looking pretty.”


	26. Voyeurism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this while binge-watching "you" on netflix. what can i say, i love a stalker story, lol. 
> 
> **warnings for this chapter:** stalker!tony, victim!peter, slight spiderio, voyeurism, semi-public sex bc jfc peter close your curtains???

Peter Parker was an enigma.

Ever since that day when they ran into each other, Peter’s sugary-sweet, caramel-flavored coffee turning and staining his dress shirt brown because they quite literally _ ran into each other_, Tony had been hooked on the boy. His eyes, just as sweet and brown as his coffee, had shone with mortification when he realized where it had gone, sweet and pink lips flapping in apology.

Tony had bought him a replacement coffee, despite the boy’s incessant arguments that he didn’t need to, that it had been _ his _ coffee on Tony’s shirt. Tony really hadn’t minded. “Consider it my good deed for the day.” The words had rolled off his tongue so easily, especially after he saw those cheeks turn a beautiful shade of red.

Peter had smiled so brightly, so wide, then. He had stolen Tony’s heart without even knowing it.

And for all intents and purposes, Tony meant to show him just how much Peter meant to him. He sent flowers, cards, chocolates; anything and everything he could to show Peter how much he loved him. He would take pictures of Peter, all candid, all showing him how Tony saw him. He could capture a bead of sweat running down Peter’s forehead after an early-morning jog, a bright smile when he was allowed to ruffle the ears of a stranger’s husky, and how relaxed he looked from the seat of a cafe while working on his laptop. He could let Peter see how beautiful he was in those vulnerable moments.

So why did he look so _ scared _ when he opened up the envelope, sealed with wax and a rose petal? Why did he whip his phone out, was he calling the police?

Tony stood behind a tree across the street from Peter's apartment, street-level with the curtains open and window showing his panic off like a stage play. Tony watched him make a phone call, pace, run his fingers through his hair and fight back tears. He clung to the phone and hunched over the tacky brown couch, rocking himself through shaking breaths.

He waited and nodded and mumbled into his phone until a taxi pulled up, and when the door opened, Peter threw his phone down. Whoever was in this taxi was so important that Peter would endanger the safety of his only cell phone (one he couldn’t afford to replace) and sprint to fling open his apartment door.

“Quentin, thank god!” he cried, running into the arms of the man exiting the taxi. He hadn’t even paid his fare before his arms were around Peter.

Tony perked up, brow clenched and eyes narrowed behind the dark shades. Quentin? Who was Quentin? Tony hadn’t seen him around before.

Even from across the street, he could hear Peter’s panicked sobs and gasps, drowning out the sound of Quentin shushing him. “Hey, baby, it’s okay,” Quentin said with—oh, Christ—with a _ kiss _ to Peter’s hair. He smoothed a perfect brown curl away from Peter’s forehead. “Let’s go inside, okay? We’ll talk in there.”

He took Quentin’s hand, interlocking their fingers, and led him up the steps. He never let Quentin be more than two inches apart the entire time, and the front door slammed shut behind them.

Tony leaned forward around the tree, watching as Peter pulled him into the living room before wrapping his arms around Quentin and breaking down. Quentin held onto him, arms locked around Peter’s shoulders as he buried his face into the older man’s neck and his shoulders shook. He was crying. That wasn’t right.

He wanted to ask who Quentin was to Peter, what they were _together_, when Peter pulled his face from Quentin’s neck and looked up at him. Blue eyes gazed lovingly at him, fingers brushing away tears, and then their lips were pressed together, the need growing between them more and more as Quentin kissed him and pressed him into the back of the couch. Peter’s fingers scrabbled at his back to curl into Quentin’s dark purple sweater.

Tony watched him remove Peter’s clothing piece by piece, both of them unaware of their one-man audience and how easily anyone else could see them from the street. They certainly didn’t seem to care as Quentin bent Peter over the back of the couch and sunk to his knees behind him, his fingers caressing over the twitching muscles of his thighs.

He watched Peter’s mouth open into a small little “O,” watched him go up on his toes and grip the cushions of the couch so hard that his knuckles turned white. He watched Peter’s back bow as Quentin’s mouth worked him over.

A light went off in Tony’s head.

Yes, of course, it was so obvious. How had he not seen it before?

Of course, Peter wouldn’t know how to appreciate his romantic advances when there was someone blinding him to Tony’s love. Of course, Tony would have a romantic rival. It was so silly to think that he could be the only person in the world drawn to Peter’s beauty and innocence. How could anyone resist such sweet eyes?

But unlike Quentin, Tony knew Peter’s true worth. He knew Peter deserved better, deserved the world. He would only have to rid Peter of Quentin’s pestering presence, and he’d be free to see how much Tony loved him.

It would have to happen another night. Tony would need time to plan and prepare. In the meantime, he could enjoy watching this beautiful boy fall apart, pretending that the man bent down behind him wasn’t taking those melodious moans for granted.


	27. Face-Sitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, i was really excited for this one. i've been wanting to write trans!peter for quite a while, and i jumped at the opportunity for this prompt. i'm a trans guy myself and used terminology i'm comfortable with using for myself, and i've listed all the words i used here in case anyone might get squicked by them! take care of yourselves, loves. 
> 
> **words used to describe genitalia:** pussy, lips, cock, 
> 
> **warnings for this chapter:** trans!peter, face-sitting, oral sex, vaginal fingering,

“If you’re feeling unsure about this, Pete, we can always try again,” Tony reassured him, hands gently gliding up and down the boy’s muscular thighs where they were straddled across his lap. Tony was sitting in the middle of their bed, legs stretched out in front of him, clad only in a pair of black boxers and looking less of an emotional wreck than Peter.

Peter, who was wearing one of Tony's white dress shirts all the way unbuttoned and nothing else. He had pulled the bottom hem of the shirt over his crotch, shielding it from Tony’s view while his legs were spread. His dark red blush spread from his cheeks all the way down to his chest, and he was purposely avoiding Tony’s eyes.

“We don’t even have to do it at all, if you don’t want to,” he continued, trying to comfort his boy during his moment of second-guessing.

That brought Peter’s eyes up to his. He still looked embarrassed, although his face scrunched together in determination. “I want to!” he argued, voice just a touch too loud. He shuffled and fidgeted with the shirt’s hem. “I really do, I just… I’m nervous.”

Tony gave him a smile and leaned in to gently kiss him. There was something in the knowledge of being the first person to do this for Peter, especially when it had taken the kid nearly two hours to build up the courage to ask in the first place. The way he had almost bitten his tongue off making the request had made Tony’s heart swell.

Now, if only he could convince Peter that he really, truly wanted the boy to ride his tongue for all it was worth in a way that wouldn’t sound too desperate.

“I’ve done this before, Pete,” Tony said, hoping that a reminder of his experience would take the edge off. Peter had known about his reputation going into this with him and was even questioned on Tony’s potential lack of loyalty by nosy gossip journalists.

“I’m just embarrassed.” Peter ducked his eyes again, one hand flying to his face and covering his eyes. “What if I do something weird, or get a cramp in my leg, or smother you to death?”

Tony chuckled and immediately regretted it when Peter started moving away from him. He pried the boy’s hand from his eyes and kissed the back of it. “You’re not going to do any of those things, Pete. Okay, maybe you could get a leg cramp. Then we stop, work it out, and go right back to it. I’ve always said, it’s not good sex unless you hurt something in the process.”

Peter chewed on his lip. “I don’t remember ever hearing you say that.”

“Shut up.” Tony ruffled his hair and was pleased to see Peter's shoulders starting to descend from his ears. “If either of us doesn’t like something, we just stop, okay? Tell me the second something gets too uncomfortable or doesn’t feel good. I’ll have you back on the bed like normal, all right?”

That seemed to alleviate more of the tension in his body, and Peter gave in with a small nod and relieved sigh. He didn’t remove his hand from the hem of his shirt, but he did let Tony kiss him softly, slip his tongue between his lips, just enough to entice him. When Tony pulled away and began to lie back, Peter shifted his weight on his knees.

“Tell me if I start to suffocate you, please.”

“Just hang back and enjoy the ride, baby.”

Peter let out a heavy breath, hands shaking as moved himself up Tony’s chest, the hands on his hips easing and guiding him into place. His thighs were already starting to shake.

Tony’s hands tightened on his hips, guided him down. Peter lowered himself he could feel Tony’s breath on him, the gentle scrape of stubble on the inside of his thighs.

Between his legs, Tony could smell him, feel the heat of his skin and pussy just out of reach of his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to sink his fingers into the soft skin of Peter’s thighs and drag him down onto his mouth. He kept it slow, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh, before he pulled Peter closer to his face.

“Closer, baby,” he said, and Tony was sure his voice betrayed his arousal. “Come here.”

Tony met him halfway with a slow swipe along the slit of his lips. The sudden touch of his tongue punched a surprised moan out of his throat, and Peter doubled over. He fisted one hand into the bed sheets above Tony’s head, the other running through the thick hair on Tony’s head, currently nuzzling into Peter’s heat and licking long and slow stripes along the seam of his lips.

Peter squeaked when Tony pressed and rubbed the flat of his tongue against his head of his hardening cock. Pleasure drowned out his embarrassment, and Tony pulled Peter’s sex flush against his mouth until he was laid flat on the mattress. Peter’s thighs twitched underneath his fingers when he wrapped his lips around the head and sucked on it.

Peter’s mouth fell open, lips parting around a shaky moan. Tony hummed around him, the tip of his tongue flicking against the tip. Tony pulled back and let his tongue breach just inside. He licked at his soft inner walls and smothered a triumphant chuckle when he felt Peter’s hips start to slowly move against him. His hard little cock rubbed against Tony’s nose. The rough scrape of his stubble sent the muscles of Peter’s abdomen twitching with each hesitant gyration.

It wasn’t until Tony slipped a finger inside along with his tongue, finding that spot in Peter that sent liquid fire racing through his veins, that Peter let go and ground down against Tony’s mouth. The hand in his hair pulled his face tighter against his dripping hole, back arched and head thrown back on a pleasured cry. Tony answered with a moan of his own and crooked his fingers just to hear Peter scream for him again.

Tony’s tongue caught every drop of his arousal, moving in quick and precise motions that had Peter’s hips rocking against his mouth. His moans rose in pitch, voice cracking when Tony’s fingers began curling motion and moved at the same pace as his mouth.

“Oh, god,” he moaned, grinding down when Tony’s tongue joined his finger inside him. “Oh, my god, Tony!”

Peter’s hand left the sheets, found the one that was holding onto his hip, and Tony let him thread their fingers together and cling to him. His scalp throbbed with each yank of his hair, but it all went straight to his groin, lighting a fire in Tony’s own gut. Watching his boy lose the embarrassment and drown in his pleasure made his chest swell with pride.

Tony pulled away from him with a lick to Peter’s cock. Peter gasped and whined. His grip on Tony’s hand tightened, thighs shaking at each side of Tony’s head.

“Tell me what you want, Pete,” Tony ordered, fingers still moving inside of him and massaging his inner walls. The sound Peter made when he leaned back up to suck on his lips was music to Tony's ears.

“Make me come,” Peter begged, and tears shone in the lashes of his eyes. “Please, please, _ please _, Tony, make me come! I’m so close, I can’t—”

Tony didn’t need to be told twice, diving right back in with a harsh crook of his finger. Peter cried and bounced against Tony’s tongue and lips. Any worries about his weight on Tony’s face were now demolished, and Tony couldn’t help groaning against Peter’s sex. The vibrations nearly punched the air out of his lungs. Peter’s eyes rolled back, thanks and praise rolling from his lips while his wet walls clenched around Tony’s fingers.

A third finger slipped in. Tony’s lips wrapped around his cock. Peter’s stomach flexed and tightened, and then he was spilling into Tony’s mouth, a broken sob tearing from his throat. He ground down against Tony’s mouth and pulled Tony’s face hard against him. Tony continued moving his lips and tongue, pulsing his fingers in and out of his leaking hole.

Peter sagged forward. He released Tony’s hair to catch himself on the mattress, and Tony helped him flip to his back and ease down against the mattress. His mouth and beard were still wet with Peter’s cum when he leaned over to kiss him. His fingers slipped down between Peter’s thighs to stroke over his entrance, and Peter whimpered into his mouth.

“Hey,” Tony said when they parted for breath. His lips pulled into a proud grin at the dazed glaze over Peter’s eyes. “So, how was your first time riding someone’s face?”

Peter licked his lips and pulled Tony down for another kiss. “Don’t judge me, but I think I want to do it again. Like, right now.”


	28. Aphrodisiacs/Dubcon/Begging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of the longer fics i wrote for this month! i honestly enjoyed writing this one so, so much. tony feeling guilty about his attraction to peter is starting to become one of my favorite tropes in this fandom. 
> 
> **warnings for this chapter:** non-consensual drug use, aphrodisiacs, dub-con, guilty!tony, begging

Tony felt a mixture of elation and anxiety gripping him for the majority of the evening, eyes always searching the crowd for the face of their newest Avenger amidst models, other super humans, and reporters. Pepper had promised him that Peter’s potential conversations had been thoroughly vetted to avoid embarrassment or scandal, so Tony wouldn't have to feel obligated to spend the entire night hovering over him.

Not that Tony was worried about a “scandal.” Peter Parker had turned into America’s sweetheart almost overnight, attracting a following that rivaled Steve’s and his own, and had been barricaded to one spot by a throng of reporters and admirers alike.

One in particular, an older man (a senator, if Tony was remembering him correctly) had managed to make it to Peter’s side and latched himself there for the majority of the evening. The sight of them had set alarms going off in his head, and he had every intention of stalking over there and separating the two of them. Pepper stopped him though, reminding him that not only was Peter an adult, but he had been trained on how to handle his space gracefully in social situations.

“You have to trust him to handle himself,” Pepper said, smoothing a hand over Tony’s shoulder. “And if he does happen to put his foot in his mouth, our PR team is on standby. He’ll be fine, Tony.”

How could he properly explain to Pepper that it wasn’t _ Peter _ he didn’t trust, but the leech stuck to his arm?

But Pepper was right. Peter had his super strength and his sixth sense to tell him when something was wrong. He was an Avenger now, a public figure, and he was capable of taking care of himself.

That’s what Tony had thought, until he could hear Friday’s voice in his ear. She was cool and collected like usual, but her words sent the alarms in Tony’s head ringing off the charts: “Boss, Senator Marks is currently herding Peter away from the crowd. My scanners are picking up a high blood alcohol content, as well as something I can’t quite pick up. I believe his safety here is being compromised.”

Pure panic washed over him. “Fri, you got eyes on him?”

“Nearing the elevator, boss. I can pretend there’s a delay in order for you to get to him.”

“Don’t even let the door open.”

Tony shoved his glass of whiskey, barely touched, into the hands of a nearby guest. He didn’t care to hear their protest or complaints of spilling on their clothes (he wasn’t hurting for a dry cleaning bill). His focus was on Peter, finding him through the crowd and getting him to safety.

He had told the kid to watch how much he drank in public; how much had he had?

Thank God for Friday and her disregard for pissing off public officials. Tony caught the senator furiously pressing the up button on the panel beside the elevator, with one arm holding Peter to him as the boy wobbled and swayed. Peter was weakly pushing against him, struggling to worm his way out of the senator’s arm. Whatever was in his system left him enough frame of mind to not use his super strength to toss the guy halfway across Tony’s penthouse and through the balcony windows.

He had to say though, the thought of this asshole being sent through a window and potentially plummeting to his death would be a hell of a party trick.

Putting aside his anger for now, Tony flashed as cheerful a smile as he could and tapped Marks on the shoulder. The fact that the man jumped and looked back at him with eyes wide as saucers told Tony everything he needed to know.

“Senator Marks, how kind of you to assist Mr. Parker after a few drinks,” Tony declared, hoping a few reporters would turn their way. A few clicks and flashes of a camera told him he had succeeded. “I appreciate your concern for his safety, but I can take it from here.”

“O-Oh, no, Mr. Stark,” Markus stammered, fingers suddenly digging into the dark blue blazer of Peter’s suit. “Don’t worry about him, I’ve got him. You can return to your party and elbow-rubbing, I’ll just see to it that the kid makes it to bed in one piece.”

Tony blinked, smile straining at the corners. “I’m sure Peter appreciates your concern, but as his direct teammate and mentor, I couldn’t enjoy my evening without knowing that he made it _ safely _ and _ untouched _ into bed.”

Tony took a step forward, hand grasping Peter’s biceps, and not-so-politely yanking the boy out of Marks’s space. The senator caught himself from reaching out and taking Pete back, but there was enough movement for Tony to catch and confirm his suspicions. With Peter now safe in his arms, still drunk and stumbling (and murmuring Tony’s name in clear confusion), he let the smile slide off his face.

“I think it would be best if you called it an early night, Senator. Wouldn’t want to stay out too late and cause a scandal, now would you?” Tony tilted his head to the side and tightened his grip on his mentee. “After all, you and your wife are still working through your last one, am I right?”

Marks somehow managed to look guiltier, then. His lips flapped as he tried to come up with some excuse or retort. Whatever he came up with, he didn’t get the chance to use it. As soon as Tony had Peter tucked securely against his side, the elevator doors opened. Tony gave Marks a _ friendly _ pat on the shoulder and stalked right past him.

The second those doors were closed, Tony ordered Friday to have him removed from the building and blacklisted from future events.

Peter groaned from where he was pressed against Tony’s side, head tucked into Tony’s neck while he had pressed the buttons for a private floor. He resisted the urge to laugh when he thought about the boy experiencing his first hangover. At the very least, he’d get the boy to vomit up whatever drug he’d taken, get some water and painkillers in his system. If the alcohol wasn’t going to make him feel like shit, then surely whatever drugs he’d been exposed to would.

“Come on, kid,” Tony said when Peter leaned even more of his weight against him. “Let’s get you to the bathroom, okay? Get some of that shit up before you go to bed so you don’t feel even worse.”

Peter whined, arms tightening around Tony’s middle. He nuzzled further into Tony’s neck, which made exiting the elevator difficult when Tony was trying not to trip over Peter’s feet. They stumbled a little less than gracefully out of the elevator. It was Peter’s own floor, clean and barely furnished beyond what Tony had already provided.

A small, black leather loveseat was the closest thing to the elevator, and Tony set Peter down on the cushions. The boy caught himself from falling over, but he didn’t look well. His face was flushed red, eyes dazed, hair beginning to stick to his forehead with a thin sheen of sweat. Tony asked for a temperature reading from Friday and felt his heart kick up when he heard the steady, “101.6, boss,” from the speakers above them.

“Shit, kid, we might need to get Dr. Vaughn in here to take a look at you. What the fuck was in that drink?”

Tony reached down to brush the hair out of Peter’s face, and he could feel the heat radiating from his skin. He put the back of his hand against Peter’s flushed cheek. The sound that followed made Tony freeze up, hairs on his skin prickling and blood draining from his face. No, that was definitely a sound of pain, he’s hurting and miserable. He was roofied! In public!

Peter had definitely _not_ just moaned at Tony’s touch.

And he was absolutely not pressing his face against Tony’s wrist, thighs rubbing together in a weak attempt to gain friction against a growing bulge between them. That bulge definitely wasn’t there. Tony was just seeing things; maybe he was getting sick, too.

He really wished that delusion had been true, but no, he definitely wasn’t dreaming. Peter was growing hard, erection pressing on the fabric of his slacks, and all the while he nuzzled into the back of Tony’s hand. High little whimpers escaped between his lips with every breath. When he looked to Tony, his pupils were dilated so widely they swallowed the ring of whiskey brown around them.

Whatever drug was currently coursing through Peter’s blood, Tony hoped the guy hadn’t overdosed him on it.

“Pete, I’m calling Dr. Vaughn up here, okay? She’ll see to it you’re taken care of—”

A whine ripped itself from Peters chest when Tony tried to pull himself away and out of Peter’s reach. Damn the kid and his superhuman strength.

“Mr. Stark, please,” Peter begged, fingers digging harder into the sleeve of Tony’s blazer. Tony was sure he heard a few threads snap under his grip. “Please, please don’t leave. I can’t breathe.”

His chest heaved, gasping as he struggled to hold onto Tony. His hands shook.

“Okay, okay, kid.” Tony put a hand over his and tried not to think about the way Peter whined and moaned at his touch. Fuck, what was in that drink? “Fri, any chance we can get some vitals?”

Tony barely heard her response as Peter leaned forward to press himself flush against Tony, face in his stomach, and hips moving lazily against his leg. His hands found Peter’s shoulders, with all intent to push him away, but he couldn’t help the groan that escaped him when he felt just how _ hard _ the boy was, how desperately he was trying to use Tony’s leg to get off.

“‘M sorry,” he sobbed into Tony’s hip. “I can-can’t help it. It _ hurts_, Mr. Stark.”

His throat felt so thick when he swallowed, like it had ballooned up. Tony couldn’t seem to find it within himself to move or even touch Peter; he was afraid of what he might do to the kid in this state, as drugged up and lust-blind as he was. He wasn’t in any frame of mind to consent to anything.

“It’s okay, kid, it’s not your fault,” Tony said, and he hated how tight his voice sounded. He tried to ignore the stirring in his groin, traitorous cock twitching at the sight of his mentee rutting against him like a bitch in heat.

Okay, that was inappropriate and unfair. Like someone who had been drugged without consent and couldn’t handle his alcohol well. That was better.

“Please,” Peter begged, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Please, Mr. Stark, I need _ help_.”

_ Help_. “Help” meant dealing with the poor boy’s erection, “help” meant getting the boy off because his hands were shaking so badly he probably couldn’t get a good grip on himself if he tried. “Help” meant Tony needed to intervene and do something with him. _ With _ him.

For once, Tony’s body reacted before his brain, and he was grasping Peter’s hands, free from his grip and holding him back and away on the couch, and looking into those shiny little puppy eyes. God, it was completely unfair, the things those eyes could make him do. He’d wreak havoc on New York if Peter ever asked it of him.

“Peter,” Tony said slowly, hypnotized by the dark blush across the boy’s face. “Do you even know what you’re asking for?”

“Yes!” Peter sucked in a shaky breath. “Yes, yes, I know. I can’t do this by myself, Mr. Stark. _ Please _ help me.”

Tony gave in. He pushed Peter down until he was laid across the cushions of the loveseat with Tony between his legs. His own cock filled out and his slacks grew tight at the sight of Peter spread underneath him. The boy’s eyes were still lust-dark and wet, cheeks crimson, skin damp and beginning to drip with sweat. His lips were chewed red and swollen, but he still let them stretch into a relieved smile when Tony placed a palm over his collarbone and slid it all the way down, slowly, to the belt around his waist.

Peter’s breath hitched, hips jumping up so that Peter’s clothed cock brushed against Tony’s wrist.

“Shh, shh, Pete, I’m gonna take care of you.” Tony would have winced at how deep and graveled his voice sounded if not for the way it made Peter absolutely _ writhe _ beneath him. He couldn’t help the aroused laugh it pulled from his chest. “Yeah, baby, is that what you want? Want Mr. Stark to take care of you?”

The sound Peter made was sinful, drowning all of the hesitating thoughts in his head. He couldn’t just leave this poor thing here, alone, to deal with this problem.

He pulled his coat off and tossed it onto the floor, diving down to capture Peter’s trembling lips in a wet and hungry kiss. He was so sweet, inexperienced, letting Tony take the lead as his tongue slipped between the boy’s plush lips. His head fell back against the armrest and fingers tangled in Tony’s hair. He didn’t even mind the slight sting of Peter’s fingers running through his gelled hair and snagging.

Tony made quick work of Peter’s belt. The metal buckle clinked when it hit the floor several feet away. He was almost worried he had broken the zipper from how quickly he yanked it down, but then the boy’s cock was in his hand and leaking into the fabric of his underwear, and Tony’s concern of a wardrobe malfunction was completely lost.

He was so _ wet_. Dripping and drooling in the confines of his underwear while Tony massaged and squeezed him. Peter’s hips jerked up and rutted into Tony’s fingers, moans and praise and thanks spilling from his lips with each breath. His nails scraped so pleasantly against Tony’s scalp that he almost lost his grip.

The way Peter’s body moved beneath him was stunning; fluid rolls of his hips that started with an arched back and an open mouth. Tony gave in to every plea to be kissed, to be rougher, to give Peter what he needed. God, what he wouldn’t give to have this every night, preferably with a Peter that was sober and lucid instead of drugged into a heat.

Oh, and the way he damn near _ sang _ when Tony pulled his boxers down, freed his cock, and bent down to suck the head into his mouth. The boy’s back and shoulders left the leather completely, and it was only a few seconds before Tony found him coming into his mouth. Peter screamed Tony’s name like a prayer as he bucked his hips in the aftershocks.

Tony couldn’t help but swallow him down, surprised by how much the boy came, and didn’t think anything of it beyond how fucking good he tasted. Peter squirmed from overstimulation when Tony left a kiss to the ruddy head of his dick then pulled him up for a filthy kiss.

Tony wondered if Peter liked tasting himself in another man’s mouth. Tony definitely enjoyed it, having it linger on his tongue as it slid across Peter’s.

“M-Mr. Staaark,” Peter mumbled against his lips. He hissed, pulling Tony’s hand back down and… Oh. He was still achingly hard, as if coming hadn’t softened him out in the least bit.

Tony kissed him again, smothering each whimper with his lips.

“It’s okay, baby boy,” he muttered, running one hand through the sweaty mop of hair. “Didn’t I say I was going to take care of you?”


	29. Window/Balcony sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what can i say, i fucking LOVE sim!tony. :'D 
> 
> **warnings for this chapter:** sim!tony, window sex, power fantasies

Tony loved surveying his kingdom. This world had given over to him so completely, so easily. He wondered how they had even made it this far into civilization, but whatever the Inferior Tony had done to earn their love and trust of him, he was thankful. It saved him from having to go through the trouble of doing it himself; none of the work, all of the rewards.

And this one, all wrapped up in red and black like the world’s most gorgeous present, was his favorite of them all. The Inferior’s little pupil, who he had taken under his wing, who adored Tony so openly and unashamed of it.

It had taken some time to get the sweet thing to warm up to him, to accept him as Tony Stark. This universe’s Stark had been foolish enough to sacrifice himself for these worms. He wouldn’t be making that same mistake if it meant leaving such a gorgeous young man to suffer in his absence.

Especially if it meant never getting to hear the way his voice pitched high when Tony sheathed himself completely into the boy’s wet and pliant hole, watching the glass fog up from where his cheek was pressed up against it.

Oh, how easily he had given in when Tony made his advances. His little half-hearted _ no_s and _ this isn’t right_s had turned into pleas to have Tony inside him, to hold him down, to control him. Tony didn’t have it within himself to tell the boy no, especially when he had gotten on his hands and knees and kissed Tony’s shoes on command. That pink tongue had tasted the leather of his heels before it tasted Tony’s mouth.

Tony ground his hips against Peter, pressing his face further into the sheet of glass and watching those pretty brown eyes struggle to stay on him as he had commanded. He knew Peter wanted to be good for him, and he was. He was so, so good. Tony couldn’t resist the urge to lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his temple.

“What a sight you make on my cock, Peter,” Tony groaned, followed by a sharp snap of his hips. Peter wailed, breathing heavily against the glass. Tony put a hand on it to hold his balance as he started a slow but rough pace. “I should broadcast that sweet little face to the world, honey. Let them all see you like this. They’ll know who runs this world with me, who has power they could only dream of.”

Tony’s hips coming into contact with his was the only sound other than Peter’s pleasured moans and whimpers. Tony dug his fingers into Peter’s hips and pulled him back onto his cock. The boy’s face peeled from the window, head hanging down as his arms stretch out to hold himself up. His fingers dipped into the fog on the window and cleared some of it away. The sight of Malibu, shining from across the dark black water, revealed itself under his touch.

Tony couldn’t resist then, putting a hand underneath the boy’s chin and forcing his head up. Those eyes were open, Tony could see them in the reflection, and staring straight ahead at the landscape.

“You see them, Peter?” he asked, kissing the outer curve of Peter’s ear and tightening his hold. He wouldn’t let Peter look away. “Ants, all of them. Beneath me, beneath _ us_. Crawling and squirming and living their lives aimlessly. Oh, how they would all get on their knees for us if we asked, baby.”

Peter could only answer with a strangled moan of Tony’s name, spit dripping down the corner of his mouth and onto Tony’s fingers.

“And you, with more power than you can imagine. You have no idea what lengths this world will go to, to follow your command.” Peter whined when he felt two fingers slip between his lips, and he curled his tongue over Tony’s knuckles. “They’ll kneel for you, baby. For us, and all you have to do is say the word.”

Peter threw his head back, dislodging Tony’s fingers and crying out his name as his hips pistoned hard and fast into the boy’s lithe body. He reached back and grasped the back of Tony’s neck to pull them closer together. Tony loved how his voice cracked and broke when he cried Tony’s name and rose on his toes.

Streaks of white cum splattered against the clear surface of the window. It painted over the scene of waves crashing against the rocks below their Malibu home. His pretty boy, coming untouched, something Peter had never known he could do before Tony, the _ Superior _ Tony, had come into his life.

And Tony wasn’t going anywhere, no, not while there was this beautiful young man to conquer in his bed every night.


	30. Piercings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof, i definitely struggled with this one. i had a completely different idea in mind but i just couldn't get it to work. :'D i hope this suffices
> 
> **warnings for this chapter:** blowjobs, piercings

Tony hissed, breath shuddering, lightning on his skin. He still couldn’t believe it. His eyes, his mind, had to be working together to play a trick on him. Peter was so good and rule-abiding that it had taken Tony weeks of heart-to-hearts and talks over leftover Thai before he finally got the boy to tell the other Avengers about their relationship.

Which was why he was so adamant in believing that the boy definitely didn’t flash a spark of gold from between his teeth when taking Tony’s cock into his mouth. He definitely didn’t feel something completely different and utterly delicious grazing the underside of his cock when Peter took him down slowly until the head bumped against the back of Peter’s throat.

He moaned, carded his fingers through Peter’s hair, and tried not to focus on the sensation of metal against his skin. It was familiar, something he hadn’t felt since before Pepper, way before Peter.

The temptation to see it was overwhelming. It was enough to tempt Tony to rip Peter off his cock and force his mouth open. He could do so easily, knowing Peter liked it when Tony got just the right side of rough. He resisted, if only so he could keep watching the sweet stretch of Peter’s lips around his shaft.

His knees nearly buckled when Peter suckled on the head, dragging his tongue across the slit, and metal rolled against his flesh. He breath hitched and his hips jerked forward. Peter’s proud chuckle resonated through his skin.

He had to see. He _ had _ to.

With his jaw tight, Tony reached through Peter’s hair to grab hold of it and pulled his head back. There was little force behind it, more than enough for Peter to break away from, but he let himself be led. He let Tony pull him off his cock and hold his head back, stuck his tongue out without having to be told. His lips were turned up into a cocky little smile, perfectly framing the piercing cradled in wet, pink flesh.

A tongue piercing, just a small golden ball, inconsequential. But the things it did to Tony’s blood were anything but inconsequential.

Peter turned his head to lick a stripe along the side, making sure the ball dragged the entire way. Tony clenched his teeth on a groan. He could feel himself twitch in interest, and Peter’s responding chuckle meant he felt it, too.

“Do you like it?” he asked. He feigned innocence, tilted his head the way he knew drove Tony mad, and pretended to look nervous. That look made Tony’s head rush and blood run hot. Peter’s hand never stopped its slow strokes. “I wasn’t sure about it at first. Thought it might be too flashy.”

Little shit.

Tony clenched his jaw when Peter left wet kisses along the side of the shaft, poking his tongue between his teeth. That mischievous glint in those honey-brown eyes made Tony rethink how gentle he was being with him.

“It looks absolutely gorgeous, baby,” Tony growled, watching how Peter’s face seemed to light up at his gravelly praise.

Peter moaned and slipped the head between his lips. He made sure the piercing teased along his skin while Peter took him down further and further, past the tight ring of his throat. Tony tightened his hold on Peter’s hair.

The ball rolling along the base of his cock did him in, had him spilling into Peter’s mouth far sooner than he would have liked, but Peter didn’t mind at all. The last few shots of his cum splashed along Peter’s tongue, shining alongside spit and metal when Tony captured the moment on his phone.


	31. Face-Fucking/Hate Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy. fucking. shit. 
> 
> i honest-to-god cannot believe i actually managed to complete kinktober this year!! wtf! this is a first for me and i'm seriously over the moon about it. i just. i can't express how happy i am rn.
> 
> so much love to quellthefire for posting along with me, acting as a cheerleader when i was having my down moments, and for reading entries ahead of time to help me figure out where to go when i was stuck. i literally could not have done this without her. SO much love, my dear friend. and thank you to everyone who's commented, given kudos, or just sat back silently and read each entry. y'all are just as amazing. <3
> 
> i sincerely hope y'all enjoy this fic, and happy halloween! 
> 
> **warnings for this chapter:** coerced sex, age differences, peter's age isn't mentioned so there's potential for underage, face-fucking, blowjobs, messy sex, hate sex, handjobs, verbal degradation, slut-shaming, no powers au, tony isn't a billionaire

Tony couldn’t fucking stand the kid.

Suddenly, the high turnover rate for his position made sense. The kid was insufferable, a brat by nature, infuriatingly stubborn in trying to make Tony quit. Insults at every turn, purposely sneaking away (or trying to) to drink and smoke or get high with his fellow prep-school classmates. He danced around with Tony’s anger and made him want to quit.

Joke’s on the kid, though. Tony needed this job, couldn’t afford to lose it. And he was more than happy to act as the protective thorn in Peter’s side if it meant being able to pay his bills and eat every night.

So he stayed, eyes trying to look anywhere and everywhere except for the bed where Peter was perched in a significantly-older man’s lap with two fingers sloppily opening him up. The way the older man kissed was filthy, tongue relentless between Peter’s lips. Peter had insisted on making sure Tony could see everything, hear everything, his moans so exaggerated that Tony would have gone completely soft, if not for the fact that Peter’s relentless exercise routine made him look absolutely gorgeous.

Pretty little shit. Tony couldn’t stand him.

And he absolutely couldn’t stand the way those maple eyes locked onto him when one of Richard Parker’s investors, a man easily older than _ Tony _, pressed Peter’s face into the mattress and entered him with little to no care. Peter choked on a gasp, trying to swallow down any pained noises. He locked eyes with Tony, grinned, and then moaned when the older man pulled back and shoved forward again.

Surely, this was Peter’s last-ditch effort to get Tony to quit. How would it look to his employer, after all, to admit that he had stood by and watched his son get fucked by an older man without laying that man flat out? Tony doubted telling Richard that the man in question was on the investors board for his company would help his case; the fact that it was happening at all was enough to get Tony fired.

Peter hadn’t even let him have deniability by waiting out in the hallway. 

“Oh, Tony, you shouldn’t leave,” he had said when Tony turned away, realization of Peter’s intentions dawning on him. “What if he hurts me? You wouldn’t be here to help me. And then what would happen, when I go back downstairs and there’s bruises on me?”

Tony would have called the kid’s bluff if he wasn’t 100% sure Peter would have let this asshole hurt him if it meant threatening Tony’s job.

He was stuck, watching his charge fuck his father’s investor just to get under his skin.

And Peter knew how trapped he was, if that shit-eating grin on his face was anything to go by. He didn’t seem at all bothered by the glower on Tony’s face. He opened his mouth on a moan as the man’s thrusting picked up speed, fingers digging into his hips, vulgar praise spilling out about how good of a slut Peter was, how he was so desperate for it.

_ What would your father think, if he saw you like this? _

If Tony had his way, Richard wouldn’t have a clue.

It seemed karma eventually caught its way up to Peter; the old man groaned, an ugly guttural sound, and thrust one final time into Peter. Tony had to stop himself from laughing at the look of shock on Peter’s face. The boy looked over his shoulder from where he was pressed down into the bed as the man pulled out and shucked off the condom Peter made him wear.

“Are you kidding me?” Peter scoffed as the drunk bastard rolled off to the side, lying on his back next to Tony’s offended charge. Tony snorted when Peter sat up and gave the drunkard a shove, but all that earned him was a groan and a dismissive half-wave of the man’s hand.

Peter whined and fell onto the bed, hips moving in short thrusts. He glared when a laugh broke through Tony’s lips and the older man tried his best to smother it.

“Fuck you!” Peter snapped. “It isn’t funny. God, and he told me he was good in the sack.”

Feel kinda sorry for his wife, Tony thought calmly. He didn’t feel sorry at all for Peter, though. The little shit had it coming.

“If all he’s going to do is sleep, then it would be best for us to return to your father’s dinner party,” Tony suggested. Now that the show was over, he began gathering discarded clothes and sifting through them for Peter’s things. “Richard will start asking questions if you’ve been gone too long.”

Peter pouted, honest to God _ pouted_, at Tony’s suggestion.

Tony almost fell for it. He was so close to believing that Peter was actually going to listen to him and take his advice, until the boy shifted up onto his knees, spreading his legs and leaning back to present his red, neglected cock. Tony’s eyes drifted just for a moment before he purposely turned away.

He had taken a glance, and that was all Peter had needed.

“Please, Mr. Parker, put your clothes back on,” Tony asked, holding out a pair of black dress pants folded over his arm.

The whine that followed was so goddamn sinful that Tony felt his own cock twitch. He cursed at himself but remained turned away and purposely _ not _ looking at Peter’s cock; for such a brat, it was perfectly curved and made Tony’s mouth water. If it had belonged to anyone else, Tony would have gladly accepted the invitation. Unfortunately for Peter, Tony valued his job and livelihood.

Despite Tony’s rejection, Peter persisted. He whined and arched his back. Tony still refused to look at him.

“I can’t go out there like this,” Peter said. The mattress dipped and swayed when he wiggled his hips. “Dad’ll be upset if I show up to dinner with a raging hard-on, Tony. And then I’ll have to tell him why I’m like this.”

Tony’s jaw tightened, shoulders rising to his ears. Of-fucking-course he would do this. Why did Tony think this was going to be an easy night? Peter never did anything to make Tony’s job easier.

“There’s an adjoining bathroom.” Tony knew his voice was tight. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Relieve yourself in there, and then we’re going back downstairs.”

Peter whined again, and Tony had to physically stop himself from turning to look at him. This was bad, this was so, so bad. Tony couldn’t see it getting anything but worse at this point.

Starting with Peter’s hand finding purchase on him, slender fingers reaching around to cup the growing bulge in Tony’s front. Tony jerked away, finally looked at Peter in shock, and his mouth went dry at the way Peter looked at him; dark eyes, lip sucked between his teeth, on his hands and knees and back arched so perfectly—

“Tony,” Peter whined, teeth releasing his plump bottom lip. “What would my father think, seeing us _ both _ like this? I can help you, too.”

That was un-fucking-fair.

Tony’s teeth clenched against the growing ache between his thighs. Despite how twisted it was, Peter did have a point. But unlike Peter, Tony would actually do something to prevent his employer from seeing him like this. Peter wouldn’t.

And maybe it was a little bit of his own arousal, mixed with annoyance at the boy’s antics since his first day as his bodyguard, that made Tony lean towards Peter’s favor. “The kid has a point,” his lust-addled brain supplied for him as he dropped the clothing in his arms to the floor. As Peter grinned smugly at him.

Tony wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid, proud little grin off Peter’s face. And he would.

His fingers found Peter’s hair easily, wrapped around the thick brown locks, and he jerked Peter’s head back until his throat stretched and was laid bare for him. Peter hissed but that little smirk on his face was still there. His cock stirred between his legs where it hung neglected, and Tony continued to ignore it. Instead, he gripped Peter’s chin and forced him to look at him.

“You know damn well I could lose my job if your father found out I touched you.”

“He’ll never have to know,” Peter promised with a quick shake of his head. “I won’t say a word, I promise. Just, _ fuck_, do something already.”

Tony snorted. “No, no. If we’re doing this, _ I’m _ the one giving orders here. You think I’m gonna let a desperate slut like you boss me around? After what I just saw, you’re in no form to be making demands of me.”

Peter whimpered at Tony’s harsh words, but the way his cock twitched told a completely different story. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and nodded.

“Good boy.” Tony released him, letting him fumble at the edge of the bed for balance. “Go ahead, get me out.”

That command earned him a disdained scoff. “What about me? I barely even got fucked.”

Tony grabbed the boy’s hair again, pulling, watching Peter’s face contort from annoyance to pain. He hissed between his teeth and reached for Tony’s hand.

“You really think I want to stick my cock in you after that drunk bastard had his turn? No, Peter, I think you owe me much more than sloppy seconds after the hell you’ve been putting me through since day one,” Tony released his hold on Peter’s hair and expected the kid’s erection to soften under his harsh words. He was still hard, clear pre dripping from the head. “You’re going to take what I give you and you’re going to deal with it like a good little cockslut.”

Tony almost felt bad, taking his anger out on the boy after so long, if not for the way the boy whimpered and gave him a weak, “Yes, sir.”

Tony’s cock stirred again, and he let his hands fall to his sides. “Well, then. What are you waiting for? Get to it. I’m not going to let you come until I do.”

Peter didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned forward, fingers curling into the hem of Tony’s pants and pressing his face against Tony’s covered erection. Tony bit back a groan at the sight of Peter nuzzling his nose against it, mouthing it, licking a long stripe along the rise of the fabric and moaning as he worked his tongue over it. He looked up at Tony from beneath a fan of black lashes and grinned when he felt Tony’s fingers run through his hair.

His hands made quick work of Tony’s belt and button, but he used his teeth to pull down the zipper. Tony felt his breath catch at the sight.

Peter wrapped his lips around the head of Tony’s cock and suckled it through the thin red fabric of his underwear. He teased his tongue around the head blindly. Tony’s fingers ran through his hair again and gently cupped the back of his head.

It was torture, Peter teasing and tracing out the shape of Tony’s erection with just his tongue. His fingers dug into Tony’s hips until Tony had enough of the teasing. He pushed Peter’s head away from him and tried not to give in to the whine that followed. Letting Peter continue and suck him off at his own pace was tempting. He managed to resist.

The way Peter damn near drooled when Tony pulled his cock out did wonders for his ego. A wet tongue poked out between his lips, like Peter wanted to taste him. Fuck, that was a good look on the little brat. It made his cock jump.

“Open your mouth.” Tony’s sharp command was obeyed immediately. Peter’s lips parted in a perfect “O” with his tongue protruding out over his bottom lip. Tony tapped the head of his dick against Peter’s tongue and had to forcibly stop the boy from taking him in. “What the fuck did I say? _You take_ _what I give you_.”

Peter nodded, tongue still out, eyes slipping shut when Tony let the head of his cock push slowly into the heat of his mouth. He had been disgusted earlier when Peter had sucked off his previous partner, now asleep where he had collapsed on the bed after his pitiful performance. Now, he understood why the man had been so vocal. Peter had experience, knew how to hollow his cheeks and keep his teeth away from the sensitive skin of Tony’s shaft.

Tony groaned when he pulled his cock out and Peter chased it with his tongue.

“God, what a slutty fucking mouth,” Tony growled, forcing Peter’s head back so he couldn’t look anywhere else but him. He forced a thumb between Peter’s lips and held his mouth open, pad grazing over the pink tongue curling around it. “Wonder how many cocks you’ve taken in here.”

Peter made a whimpering little sound that Tony didn’t even acknowledge. He ordered Peter to keep his mouth open as he gathered spit in his own. The wet glob fell from his lips to Peter’s tongue, and he swallowed it without command.

Tony spit again and shoved himself between Peter’s lips before the boy could take it down. Peter sucked him again, eyes focused up on Tony’s as he bobbed his head and matched the slow thrusts of Tony’s hips. His eyes shone with tears when Tony’s cock reached just far back enough to make him gag, and spit trickled out of one corner of his mouth. He gagged again, and Tony pulled him further onto his cock.

“Should I just fuck you like this, then?” Tony asked, pulling his dick nearly all the way out and back in. Peter couldn’t catch his gag reflex the first time, but he held it together on the following thrust. It was still too shallow to breach his throat, but Tony figured he could fix that. “Fuck your throat till you can’t speak? Your dad should thank me for finding a good use for that smart mouth of yours. Can’t be rude at dinner if you can’t speak.”

Peter moaned, nodding as best he could with Tony’s fingers tight in his hair. He curled his own against Tony’s jacket and tried to pull him closer. Tony couldn’t help laughing.

“That what you want, huh? Someone to finally shut you up?” Tony thrust hard and sharp into Peter’s mouth. He could feel the back of the boy’s throat. “I think I can help with that. Open wide, brat. If you so much as _ think _ about using your teeth, I’m gonna leave a handprint on that pretty face of yours.”

After receiving the most enthusiastic nod he’d seen from the boy, Tony tightened his hold on Peter’s hair and pulled him down on his cock until he felt the muscles of his throat flex, watched Peter’s face scrunch in determination not to gag, and started a slow pace. He could be just a little nice, ease the boy into it. Drool dripped down his chin and he moaned wetly each time Tony bumped the back of his throat.

Tony curled his other hand around the bottom of Peter’s jaw, using his thumb to prop the boy’s mouth open, and gave a hard thrust. Peter did gag around him that time, sputtering, but took it like a champ. His fingers dug into Tony’s hips as he started pushing more and more of himself into Peter’s mouth.

A forceful thrust broke through the tight ring of his throat, letting Tony pull him all the way down on his cock until Peter’s nose was buried in the patch of dark hair above the base. His nails bit Tony’s skin but the moan, combined with the way he nuzzled himself against Tony, said he was more than happy with his situation. Tony hissed when Peter swallowed and pulled back only to thrust down once more.

More spit spilled from Peter’s stretched lips as Tony began fucking his throat. His self-control nearly broke when he watched Peter put a hand around his neck and grope at the bulge Tony’s cock made in it. He whined, cracking open one dark eye to look up at Tony as his thrusts gained in speed and power.

Tony wiped a clear line of saliva away from the corner of Peter’s mouth and pulled his cock out just to watch it pour over his chin and neck. His lips were swollen and wet, chest heaving with each breath. He blinked and tears escaped the lashes of his eyes. There was no hesitation in taking Tony down again when he pressed the head of his cock against Peter’s bottom lip, prepared and ready for Tony to slip back down into the tantalizing heat of his throat.

He was relentless then, fucking into his mouth. Peter moaned around him, mouth completely relaxed, taking him so well and with no complaint. He reached down between his thighs to tug and jerk himself off, and Tony let him. If Richard hadn’t already sent someone to come find them, they wouldn’t have much longer before someone came knocking.

“That’s it, baby,” Tony growled. “Finally putting that mouth of yours to good use. Should have done this sooner. Would have gotten me less backtalk if you had a cock shoved down that throat of yours.”

Peter managed to nod from his position, hand working furiously over his red and drooling dick while Tony used him. He could feel himself getting close with each thrust. Should he pull out? Surely, Peter would throw an absolute fit if Tony forced him to swallow his cum, but then where would it go?

His decision was made for him when Peter released himself and grabbed at Tony’s hips to pull him closer. Tony thrust two, three more times before that tight coil in the pit of his stomach snapped and he found himself spilling down Peter’s throat with a gasp. Peter pressed his nose against Tony’s hip and took down every drop of him, working his throat to milk Tony of all he had.

Tony swallowed as Peter eventually pulled off his softening cock. A mix of spit and Tony’s cum dribbled down his chin. He didn’t spare Tony a glance, leaning his forehead against Tony’s stomach and wrapping his fingers around his shaft. His hips jumped up into his own fist as he worked to get himself off.

He should probably end it there, Tony thought. Let the boy get himself off, so they could start pretending that Tony hadn’t just fucked the boy’s throat like a damn maniac. Or talked down to him the way he did. God, he was so fired.

Might as well go out with a bang.

“Hands off,” Tony ordered, and Peter looked up at him with a confused frown (and with his face still drenched in his own spit, what a fucking image) that quickly changed to surprise when Tony pushed him onto his back, held Peter’s hand down onto the mattress, and replaced it with his own.

The way Peter’s hips jumped from the bed at Tony’s touch was going to be burned in his mind forever. It would certainly make for a pleasant memory while he was job-hunting next week after Peter’s father found out what he’d done to his son.

For now, he focused on jerking the boy off and watching him fall apart beneath him, head thrown back and mouth open on a string of rough moans. His voice sounded like it had been drug through gravel, no doubt having taken a beating from the fucking Tony gave him earlier. He begged and pleaded with Tony to _ don’t stop, please don’t, I’m so close! _

“Fuck, kid,” Tony groaned, watching his back bend and arch off the mattress. “You really will slut it up for just any old man if it gets you what you want. I mean, look at you. You’re soaking wet, just because I put my cock in your mouth. God, you’d give it up to just about anyone willing to stick their dick in you, huh?”

Tony’s fingers squeezed tightly around Peter’s shaft as he stroked upwards. He twisted his wrist around the head, fingers deliberately teasing the sensitive skin just beneath it, watching Peter’s toes curl and head thrash back and forth. Tony gave the base of his cock a hard squeeze.

“You close? You want to come, you little cocktease?” Tony asked, his voice nearly drowned out by the pleasure-pained cry that erupted from Peter’s chest. “Do you even _ deserve _ it? You’ve been torturing me for the better half of four months. You think you deserve to come after all that?”

Tony played with the idea of leaving the boy hanging; a lesson for the future if he ever thought of getting involved with his father’s seedier friends and risking Tony’s job (what was left of it) again. What a sight that would be, leaving the boy aching and hard and forcing him to sit through the rest of his father’s stupid dinner in that state. Hiding a raging hard-on was easier done sitting than standing.

But that wasn’t what this was about. Dinner wouldn’t be for another hour, and questions of their whereabouts were probably already floating through the crowd. He didn’t have time to fantasize or tease.

Peter didn’t last much longer. His hips left the bed, free hand curling into the sheets above his head, and he came in thick white ropes across his stomach and chest, clinging to Tony’s fingers, splattering against his blush-pink skin. Peter’s voice cracked when he came, still rough and raw from Tony’s earlier use of his throat. He whined and sobbed as Tony’s grip turned from pleasurable to painful.

Tony released the boy’s cock, dark red and wet from his release, and leaned back from the edge of the bed. His senses came back to him at once, looking over Peter lying out across the bed sheets with his chest heaving. Peter raised a hand to run his fingers through his hair, now just as wrecked as the rest of him, while Tony ducked into the adjoining bathroom to make himself more presentable.

He returned to Peter with a wet towel, tossing it to him and pointedly not making eye contact.

As Tony gathered Peter’s previously-abandoned clothing, the boy scoffed from the bed. “Was that as good for you as it was for me?” he teased, and Tony felt that sick curdling shame rise back up in his gut.

Instead of answering, Tony continued searching for the boy’s underwear.

“Jesus, Tony, I was just joking. Lighten up a little, would you?”

Tony found enough courage to turn back to Peter, who was busy wiping his face off when the wet towel. He looked completely unpresentable: hair was mussed up and wrecked from where it had been previously gelled back, his lips were swollen, and there was a dark red ring around his wrist where Tony had held it down to the mattress. If they went back now, Tony wouldn’t be able to explain away.

He was screwed. He was so goddamn screwed.

“Just put your clothes on and try to look semi-presentable,” Tony snapped, tossing the clothes onto the mattress beside Peter.

Tony pretended not to hear Peter snidely imitating him as he turned his back to offer the boy some form of privacy while he redressed himself. In the meantime, he agonized over what Richard’s reaction was going to be when he and Peter returned to the party downstairs. Would he wait until they were alone to help preserve his family reputation, or would he explode and fire Tony on the spot? Or would Peter make a huge announcement to everyone and let everything play out from there?

In any case, Tony considered calling in a few favors from some friends to get a job or two lined up, however temporary.

Peter huffed behind him, a loud and indignant sound that he usually only made when Tony told him _ no_.

“Ugh, your pillow talk could use some work.”

Tony tried, and failed, not to seethe at the comment. No use in getting angry at every little word the brat said now. Peter would barely remember him when he was gone.


End file.
